Where The End Began
by Writer's Dilemma
Summary: This follows the journeys of Marian Hawke, Fereldan rogue, and her companions. We get a deeper glimpse into the emotional transformation of the Champion of Kirkwall, especially regarding the way romance influences her decisions.
1. Where it Began

Hawke slammed upright, her head painfully colliding with the ceiling. A grunt escaped her lips while sweat ran down her face, making her sleep shift stick to her damp body. She clutched her calloused hands to her forehead, where she could feel a small, angry lump rising underneath the skin.

"Marian?" Bethany's voice drifted up to Hawke from the bunk below her. "Are you okay?" Hawke gave a noncommittal grunt, swinging her legs over the edge and hopping down.

She felt Bethany's fingers brush against her wrist, but she ignored it. Instead, Hawke strode over to the water basin in the corner of their miniscule bedroom and splashed water on her face several times.

"It was the nightmare again, wasn't it?" The mage's voice was small, but tender and beseeching. "Sister, you can't keep blaming yourself for his death." Hawke splashed her face once more, the cold soothing the hot ache on her head. She closed her eyes, the images that have been haunting her for over a year flashing across her mind again.

_"You soulless bastards!" Carver bellowed before swinging his massive broad sword at the behemoth of an ogre. _

_CRACK. Bones snapped._

_CRACK. Blood. _

Hawke's memory faded, her mind blocking out the following battle because she flew into a blind rage, daggers flashing, blood spurting.

_"Carver! Wake up! The battle's over!" Leandra cradled the mutilated form of her only son. Tears stained her lined face, defeat hunching her body. _

"Sister?" Hawke's eyes snapped open. Bethany had lit a candle; she moved to stand near Hawke, stance wary. "Please, Marian, look at me." Hawke turned around. When she saw the look of fear and sadness on her beloved sister's soft features, hot tears stung her own. Bethany stretched a hand out before her, a small but gently reassuring smile touching her lips.

Hawke placed her fingers against her sister's, allowing the young mage to lead her to the edge of the bottom bunk. They both sank down onto the thin, lumpy mattress, Bethany holding the rogue close to her.

"She blames me for it, you know," Hawke husked quietly. "Mother. She blames me. She would never admit it, but I see it behind her eyes when she looks at me."

"Oh, Sister!" came Bethany's strangled cry. "She doesn't blame you! She could _never_ blame you!" Hawke merely clenched her jaw, staring ahead, not listening. "Marian, look at me!" The mage's voice held authority this time. It was not a request; it was a command. Hawke turned her eyes to her young sister, caught off guard by the sudden change in manor.

"Mother does not blame you. When she looks at you, she sees Carver... And Father. It hurts her to see them. She's not angry, Marian. She's just heartbroken. We all are..."

Hawke's shoulders slumped in defeat. She fell against her sister, who held her lovingly. The mage pulled her sister down with her, onto the tiny bunk, keeping her sibling in her arms. Bethany was the only person in all of Thedas that she would let cradle her. Bethany was the only person she showed her true emotions to. She even kept herself guarded with her mother, showing only a surface of warring emotions roiling and battling underneath her heart.

"Go away, Dog!" Gamlen's disgruntled voice rumbled through the hovel, waking Hawke and Bethany. The rogue smiled at her sister before pulling herself free of the threadbare blankets and mage limbs.

"You can't have any of my food, you mongrel!" Mangy's playful, expectant yip responded. "No! You can't have it! Find your own!" Hawke splashed more water on her face before placing some mint leaves from a pouch by the basin in her mouth, and then donned a tunic and soft leather trousers.

"Stop looking at me like that! This is _my_ food!"

"I wouldn't want him eating anything you touched, Uncle," the rogue yawned, entering the main room.

"Very funny," Gamlen sneered. "Call your beast off! He won't listen to a thing that I say!"

"Yes, well, my hound is smarter than you. He's got enough brains to know to _not_ listen to a word that comes out of your mouth." A clever smirk painted Hawke's lips.

"Marian! It's too early to be antagonizing your uncle!" Leandra walked in from the only other adjacent room, still wearing her nightgown, but already brushed her hair out.

"Sorry, Mother." But the grin painting her face showed that she clearly only half meant it. She peered down at the food available for breakfast as Bethany entered, fully clothed in her robes, just tying the scarf she never went without around her neck.

Hawke's nose wrinkled as she saw a few withering apples, dried out cheese and molding bread. She picked out the healthiest fruit, and pulled off the fuzzy spots on the loaf of nut bread, offering it to her mother.

Leandra was about to insist that her eldest take it instead, but Hawke shook her head in refusal and moved purposefully back to the small bedroom. She walked to the corner at the foot of the craggy bunk beds where her armor lay.

It was all supple leather, and minimal amounts of actual metal to maximize movement and draw as little attention in a fight as possible. She slipped the jerkin on over the cotton tunic that she already wore, fastening the buckles and straps with lithe ease, her fingers working in a practiced fashion. Tougher reinforced leather leggings replaced the trousers she donned earlier, followed by sturdy, but quiet, steel-toed boots.

Mounted on the wall was her growing collection of daggers and knives. She took her favorite pair, crafted from silverite with custom grips made for her hands alone. She checked the edges before slipping them into the sheaths that hung at her back. A boot dagger was placed securely inside the lip of her boot, and a small throwing knife concealed in the waist of her trousers at the small of her back. She picked up a little pot of red war paint that she fancied, and wiped a streak across her nose, completing the ensemble.

She looked up at the tiny armory one more time, at the centerpiece of the collection. It was an impressively sized great sword, forged of red steel, bearing signs of use. Small scratches were etched into the handle of the weapon, numbering the victories the blade had seen.

Hawke made sure that it was kept oiled and polished, ensuring that a dull edge never tainted it. Her fingers slowly caressed the handle, from hilt to pommel, feeling her throat constrict. It was the only thing of Carver's that she had, and she looked after it with the utmost care.

She swallowed hard, steeled herself and then re-entered the main room. Bethany looked to her sister, eyeing the armor, knowing the day was going to be a long one.

"Come on, Beth. Let's go to the Hanged Man for some food that is less moldy than this." She motioned to the mabari to follow as well. "Besides, I need to discuss something with Varric."

Bethany had scooped up the staff that their father had left her, a smile touching her lips. "I'm with you, Sister."

They both said a quick goodbye to Leandra, whose worry she never bothered to hide anymore. She watched her only two children stride through the door, war hound at their heels.

The familiar aroma of stale alcohol, piss and body odor that pervaded the tavern was no less pungent in the morning than it was in the afternoon. The Hawke siblings sat down at a table, if you could call it that, and flagged down Norah. They ordered a light breakfast, and Hawke slipped Norah a couple of extra coppers for some stew bones to give to the hound.

"What does Varric want?" Bethany fixed her sister with an intense stare over their food, letting the rogue know that she wasn't to be kept out of the loop.

"He wants to discuss something about the Deep Roads Expedition. He wouldn't say what, so I figured it was either bad news, or something he didn't want to get back to Bartrand."

"I'm starting to wonder if we should be doing this. I mean, we need fifty sovereigns to invest in this venture. Why don't we just keep the gold for ourselves, and get out of Gamlen's house."

Hawke moved her hand to cover one of her sister's, a strained look seething beneath her dark locks of hair. "Beth, it's not enough to just move to another place, probably still in Lowtown. With the money we could make from this expedition, we can get our name and status back. With that comes protection. Protection that you need from the Templars. I couldn't bear to see you taken to the Gallows. Or worse." Tears were shining in the young mage's eyes. "Mother wouldn't be able to stand it either."

"I'm sorry for the burden my magic has placed upon you. You have done so much for us."

"Hush, Beth. I have done what I must to keep my family safe. Maker knows, we have lost so much, and I won't lose any more."

Bethany smiled sheepishly, wiping the tears from her face. "Don't ever think that I am not grateful, Marian. I love you for all that you do."

Hawke put her face in her hands, tensing up. Mangy, having finished destroying his bones, put his head in her lap, whining slightly. The rogue lightly stroked the dog's head. "Everything we have done to get here has been marked by blood. The darkspawn, Carver... Even getting into the city required us to kill for the Red Iron. Even just arriving to Kirkwall, we had to kill fellow Fereldans who only wanted what we did."

"The Maker works in ways we can't quite understand. Yes, we have endured tragedy to survive, but look at yourself, Marian. You still work for the better, for honorable intentions. And you feel guilt, which means your conscience and heart are strong. You're not doing this for joy or simple cold blood. You're still my big sister, finding trouble and bailing us out."

Hawke looked up at the young woman sitting beside her. Her face radiated warmth, love and confidence. She wasn't uttering these words to placate the rogue; she truly believed everything she said.

"Where would I be without you, Beth?" Hawke rose from her seat. "I'm going upstairs to speak to Varric. Stay here for now, and don't let Mangy bite anyone."

The mage consented to Hawke's request, watching the rogue ascend the stairs to the upper landing. Marian strode casually into the dwarf's room, tastefully decorated with dwarven trappings and furniture. The dwarf in question was lounging at the end of a long table, shuffling through documents.

"Hawke! You're here, perfect timing." The dwarf gave her a sly smile, immediately abandoning the scattered pile of parchment. "Bartrand has been busy tearing his beard out trying to finance this whole expedition, but it won't mean anything if we can't get into the Deep Roads. What we need is a good entrance."

"_Any_ entrance would do. Unless there's a dragon sitting in it!" Varric chuckled at Hawke's cheek. He continued to tell her that his sources had located a former Grey Warden staying somewhere in Kirkwall. He would be their best chance at obtaining maps into the Deep Roads.

"We need to find this Warden," Hawke said, agreeing with her accomplice. "However, we have to be careful of the questions we ask, and whom we direct them to. Trouble finds us, Varric. Let's get Aveline to come along for back up. Just in case."

"Whatever you need, Hawke."

The two descended to the main floor, seeing Bethany chatting with Corff at the bar, as Mangy growled at the early drunks eyeing the young and attractive mage.

"Good morning, Sunshine!"

"Varric! What trouble are we going to stir up today?"

"Nothing that Bianca can't handle." He gestured to the massive crossbow holstered at his back.

"We're going to do some inquiries, Beth."

"Will they stay that way?" The mage absentmindedly ran her hand along the staff at her side.

"Well..." Hawke shifted, but grinned widely. "That's why we're going to head to the barracks to get Aveline."

"Well then, let's go make some inquiries," Bethany said, matching her sister's impish tone. Hawke placed her hand on the mage's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. She gestured to the hound to follow, and the group left the Lowtown tavern.

It took them no time whatsoever to locate the redheaded guardswoman. She was settled on a stool, buffing her late husband's shield. Deep creases of concentration marked the woman's face, as she ran an oiled cloth over the Templar insignia embossed across the face of the shield.

"Aveline!" Hawke smiled comically at the armor-clad woman.

"Hawke." She didn't look up, but continued her ministrations.

"So... You're not busy?"

Aveline still didn't look up, but her hand stilled against the metal. "What do you need, Hawke?"

"You, of course! What else do I need?" Varric snorted and Aveline finally turned her head to look up at the crew surrounding her. "I'm hoping you and your sword arm won't be required, but..."

"Knowing you, Hawke, you always need the extra muscle." Aveline cracked a mischievous smile, snatching up her sword belt.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time to locate the whereabouts of the ex-Warden. All it took were the right questions asked around Lowtown. The troupe learned that he was operating a clinic in the old sewers that ran under the city. No one was really overjoyed at the prospect of going into Darktown, but then again, it was hardly expected that any task of theirs would be pleasant, or clean, for that matter.

Once again, Bethany earned her sister's deepest respect upon leaving a shop that was helping Fereldan refugees. An angry, and armed, group of such individuals accosted them outside the shop, but Bethany stepped forward, showing them that we had all fled that Blight, and sought to harm no one.

Her kind, but firm, statement caught the mob off-guard. Hawke didn't realize how well they had managed to blend in until the leader stated that he thought they were Marchers. After a quick salute to the rule of King Alistair, they left Hawke and her companions, looking guilty and feeling foolish.


	2. Warden's Price Part 1

"Ah, Darktown! It makes the Hanged Man smell as pretty as a rose, by comparison," Varric sighed, a wrinkle to his broad nose, Hawke snorting at his comment.

"I wish the Guard could get down here more often, but Captain Jeven actively neglects the sewers. If we put just a little bit of effort into it, this place could be...er...better," Aveline stated as she watched a beggar peeling the clothes off of a recently deceased man.

"Let's find this healer before I pass out!" Bethany pinched her nose shut, looking at the whining mabari next to her.

Hawke found a set of doors set back into one of the deep recesses of Darktown's streets. There was a lit lantern overhead, just like the young Fereldan woman had stated. Leaving no chance for self-doubt, the rogue strode through one of the unlocked doors, stopping short at the sight that lay before her.

Rough cots scattered the place, some with groaning occupants, others empty, whose stains were uncomfortably visible. One of them, set at the back, had a blanket pulled up to completely cover a body so small that it could only have been a child's.

Hawke shuddered, steeling herself against the tragedy that clearly marked this place. But another sight caught her quick eyes: A man, wearing fur-lined robes was using healing magic on a small boy, his parents beside the healer.

Small beads of sweat dotted the furrowed brow of the tired-looking mage, as he funneled all of his will into the energy pouring from his hands. Even Hawke found herself holding her breath, waiting to see what was going to happen. The boy's frail body stirred before his eyes snapped open, gasping with renewed life. The mage stumbled away, the efforts of his spell having clearly exhausted him.

The boy's father thanked the healer profusely while his wife cradled the child, weeping with joy. Hawke looked to her sister, noticing admiration and interest in the mage. It was understandable as Bethany was also fairly proficient in healing magic, having patched up her siblings on many occasions.

But the healer was not blind to their presence, and it was not long before he turned on them, holding his staff aloft and directing his free hand toward them, crackling with magic. "I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation! Why do you threaten it?"

"I'm just here to talk," Hawke cooed, holding her hands up and away from her daggers. The rest of her companions followed suit, assuming non-offensive stances.

"We're interested in getting into the Deep Roads," Varric started. "Rumor has it, you were a Warden. Do you know a way?"

"Did the Wardens send you to bring me back? I'm not going! Those bastards made me get rid of my cat!" the mage said rather crossly. "Poor Ser Pounce-A-Lot... He hated the Deep Roads."

Hawke's brow rose in disbelief, but continued as if no strange comments about a cat in the Deep Roads had been made. "I'm part of an expedition into the Deep Roads. Any information you have could save people's lives."

"I will die a happy man if I never have to think about the blighted Deep Roads again." A shadow passed over his wearied face, telling far more than Hawke realized. "You can't imagine what I went through to get here! I'm not interested..." But he paused, looking at them as though realizing they were exactly what he had been searching for. "Although..." He smirked thoughtfully. "A favor for a favor. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I'll help you."

Hawke looked to her friends. Aveline looked skeptical, as usual. Bethany and Varric, on the other hand, were scrutinizing him with cautious curiosity.

"I suppose that depends on what you have in mind, Warden," Hawke said with a playful grin.

The mage rolled his eyes. "Anders! Just call me Anders!"

"Fine. Anders. What's this favor? And it better not involve nug-wrangling or anything like that."

Anders snorted, his defensive demeanor relaxing more. "Nothing so flippant, I assure you. What I need help with is something far more delicate. I've been keeping correspondence with a mage in the Circle, Karl. I'm going to help him escape." Hawke noticed Bethany tense up immediately, her attention focused solely on him.

"I'm to meet him tonight, in the Chantry. But... I'm worried about the Templars." Bethany's hand clasped Hawke's wrist, her breath hitching at the word. She laced her fingers with the mage's, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Anders was not blind to the action. His eyes flitted to their hands before asking, "Did I say something wrong?"

Bethany shook her head. "No, but look." She held her empty hand up, conjuring a small flame in her palm before extinguishing it.

"You're an apostate," the former Warden realized. Dawning crossed his features. "You fear the Templars!"

"Don't we all, Blondie?" Varric stated. Bethany averted her eyes.

"All the more reason to help, then! This is the problem with the Chantry and its blasted Templars! They wield their fear against us mages, beating us into submission! Those who won't rest they turn Tranquil, because, in reality, they fear _us_!" Anders' eyes shone with a fierce passion that unnerved the rogue a little.

"Help me free one more mage! Help me show the Chantry that we cannot be contained like cattle!"

Hawke looked to her sister's young face, and saw her return an almost imperceptible nod, squeezing the elder's hand. "Count us in."

"Good. Meet me outside of the Chantry at nightfall."

Hawke nodded, then turned to leave the clinic. On their way back to the Hanged Man, Aveline stopped, giving the rogue a most curious look. Her jaw was clenched tight, brow furrowed and eyes dark with concentration and doubt.

"Hawke, I'm not sure that I can help you do this. I'm a member of the Guard. If I'm caught helping you to free mages from the Circle, the consequences could be disastrous... For so many people."

"Oh, come on, Aveline! What could go wrong?" Hawke laughed, exchanging grins with the dwarf at her side.

"It's not funny, Hawke! Think of your sister! What if the Templars _do_-"

"I think of my sister every moment of every day! I have spent every breath of mine protecting her from the Circle!" Bethany put a hand on Hawke's shoulder, trying to calm her down, but Hawke roughly jerked away. "How dare you even suggest that I'm doing any of this without thought for my family! I'm doing this to try and make things right again!"

"Hawke, I-"

"Don't! If you're not with me, if you're too cowardly to help, then go! Hide in the barracks!"

"I am NOT a coward!" Aveline bellowed back at the woman squaring off in front of her.

"PROVE IT!" Hawke thought for a brief second that Aveline was going to punch her, but the guardswoman stood up straighter, looking down at Hawke.

"I don't need to prove anything to you," She said quietly, venom burning every word. She jerked her head to Varric and Bethany before turning away, leaving Hawke breathing heavily, fuming with rage.

"Wow, Hawke, remind me never to get on your bad side!" The woman shot Varric a look that made even the smooth-talking dwarf cower a bit.

"Marian, you know she was just looking out for you. Aveline is only-" But Hawke silenced her sister by cupping her beseeching face in calloused hands.

"All for you," she murmured. She looked into Bethany's warm, chocolate eyes, letting her know how deeply she loved her little sister. "I-I can't right now." Swift as a cat Hawke left them, melting into the bustle of Lowtown, not looking back.

Varric let out a low whistle. "Come on, Sunshine. How about I buy you a pint and tell you a story about the time I swindled a prince out of his own crown!" Bethany chuckled, following the dwarf to the tavern, knowing that there was no point looking for her sibling. The rogue would return when she was ready.

Hawke found herself roaming the wild Wounded Coast, kicking stones over the rocky edges, counting the seconds it took before she heard the resounding _plop_ from the water. She knew she had no right to yell at Aveline the way she did, but why didn't Aveline see that this was a necessary thing to get her family closer to a good and protected life?

She sat down on a rock, plopping her chin into her hands moodily. Her mind drifted to her young sibling who knew more about life's cruelty than she should. And yet, Bethany never failed to see the light in people, to find good in every corner. It was a characteristic that Hawke found herself clinging to more often than she realized, considering how the rogue was forced to see threats everywhere to protect those she loved.

Was she really being selfish by bringing Bethany along? What if the Templars _did_ show up? They would see Bethany not only as an apostate, but also as a danger, something to be put down. They didn't hesitate, when it came to rogue mages. They attack first and ask no questions later. Self-righteous bastards!

Hawke then imagined how it would go if she tried to tell Bethany that she had to stay behind on this task. She remembered the look of rapt attention the young mage gave to Anders when he talked so strongly of freeing mages and undermining the power of the Chantry. He believed himself to be doing good, and Bethany didn't think him wrong.

Hawke could hear her now, "You can't keep me from this, Sister! I'm not a little girl anymore! I have eluded the Circle so far, and this is my chance to make a difference. I can't just sit and do nothing!" She smiled to herself, knowing that the room would be crackling with the raw energy of the mage's well-developed power.

Right decision or not, Hawke decided to go ahead with the plan, Bethany with her. The time for self-doubt was over. Brooding on the Coast served no one. She stood up and made her way back to the ever-roiling city of Kirkwall, wondering what the night would hold for them.

Hawke opened the groaning door to her uncle's hovel. Mangy bounded forward, greeting her by nearly tackling her to the floor. Gamlen grunted with distaste for the dog's actions, which Hawke and hound both blissfully ignored. "I see you made it home safe and sound, boy! Did you bite any scumbag raiders? Did you?" Hawke wrestled with her dog before her mother entered.

"No cuts, no bruises and no fresh blood stains! It must have been a good day for you, dear." Leandra embraced her eldest child.

"The day's not over yet, Mother," Hawke teased.

"Maker's breath, please tell me you're not up to something else today?"

"I have to do something tonight. It's essential to the Deep Roads expedition. We won't return until late tonight, and Mother, I have to take Beth with me. Don't worry," Hawke added hastily seeing the look on Leandra's face. "I'll keep her safe! Speaking of which, where is she?" Hawke saw with a brief glance that her sister was definitely not in the small abode.

"She sent word that she was at the Hanged Man with that dwarf, Varric. Marian? I'm not so sure about the company you sister is keeping. Especially at the Hanged Man."

Hawke broke into a fit of giggles at that comment, knowing that it meant Leandra was worried about the handsomely rugged merchant dwarf taking advantage of her little sister. The very idea was so comical that Hawke's laughter grew stronger.

"What?" Leandra said crossly.

"N-nothing, Mother. Trust me, Bethany's safe. Especially with Varric. No one will come near her there while he's with her." Leandra cast Hawke a look of disbelief. "I'm serious, Mother! Varric looks at Beth as though she were his own little sister. He's just as protective of her as I am." The elder regarded her daughter carefully before accepting her claims about the dwarf.

"I just want you two safe. After Carver..." Hawke quickly moved to embrace her.

"I miss him too."

"He would have been right with you, getting in and out of all these silly scrapes right by your side. He loved you, even though he never really said it that much. I could tell by the way he looked up to you"

"Maker knows, he's probably fuming about all the fun he's missing out on!" Hawke jested. Leandra broke a watery smile, before giving her daughter one last appraising look and moving into the other room to read.

"I'm going to the Hanged Man," Hawke stated bluntly to her seedy uncle. "Mangy, keep Mother company will you?" The hound chuffed affectionately to her master, plodding off to the room where Leandra was residing.

The rogue wound her way through the filthy streets of Lowtown, constantly extending her senses beyond herself to be prepared for any potential threats. Fortunately, though, she had built up a decent enough reputation with the Red Iron and her own personal exploits, that only the very stupid or very skilled would try anything with Hawke. She treaded the short trip at a leisurely pace, feeling the hot rays of the slowly descending sun braze her skin.

Upon entering the tavern, she noticed that Bethany and Varric were not to be found on the main floor. Without hesitation, she went to the upper floor, and into Varric's suite. There, the Dwarf had just finished saying something that caused the mage to lapse into a fit of giggles.

"Ah! Hawke, I had a feeling you would show up eventually!"

"Marian! Where did you go?"

"I just went to the coast. The water calms my nerves, takes the edge off." Hawke looked down, feeling ashamed of her actions. A pang of guilt lurched through her when she remembered the way she yelled at Aveline, her best friend, and called her a coward. Hawke knew she would have to find some way to apologize to the guardswoman, but there was no time to do so right now. They would need to leave soon to make it to the Chantry by nightfall.

Hawke made to reach for the mostly undrunk ale set before her sister, but the dwarf stayed her hand. "Can't be too loaded before helping Blondie, Hawke, you know that. I've seen you in brawls before; trust me when I say you're at your best sober."

"Andraste's sanctified ass, Varric! I just want something to take the edge off!" The statement came out a little more harshly than she had intended, but she knew that he understood Hawke was feeling frustrated and upset about the argument from earlier.

"It's your skin, Hawke. But you know how Mother Hawke hates it when her chicks come home battered and bruised..." the merchant chided, smirking at the look on Hawke's face.

"Ugh! To the Void with you and your ability to wield guilt!" Bethany giggled again, always amused with the interludes shared between her big sister and the smooth dwarf.

"Okay. Let's go, Anders will be waiting for us, and light is dwindling." The mage's giggling ceased as she took on a more serious mantle and Varric was busy strapping Bianca to his back. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get that mage's maps and be done with this!"

"Marian, wait!" Bethany caught the rogue's attention. "Do you want to stop by the barracks on the way to the Chantry?"

Hawke's jaw clenched. "There's not enough time," she mumbled before turning from her sister's imploring gaze. "Let's just go."


	3. Warden's Price Part 2

They were delayed on their journey to the Chantry by some attackers, taking advantage of the Hightown streets at night. Bianca, flashing daggers and the raw elemental powers of the mage made quick work of the would-be bandits. Hawke looted the bodies quickly, trying not to look at their faces.

_ It's all marked by blood._

Hawke hurried past the stone steps that led to the keep, already aware of just how late they were going to be. Stars pricked the smoggy blackness above them as the very last glow of the sunset faded behind stone facades.

They ascended the long flight of stairs that was winging them closer to the holy temple, Varric cursing his short legs under his breath. They were halfway up the incline when the sound of heavy boots and plate armor caught the rogue's ears.

"Hawke!" Her strong, steady voice confirmed the identity of the approaching figure.

"Aveline. I-"

"Stop. You're being stupid."

Hawke scoffed. "Come to arrest me, Guardswoman?"

"Maker no! We were... both being stupid. But if you're going to run around being daft and headstrong, there's no way in all of Thedas that I will let you do it without me." Her words were hard and determined, but that same mischievous smile that she wore earlier danced across her face again.

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you, Aveline," Hawke said, slapping a hand on her friend's pauldron, smiling with relief. "I know you were just trying to look out for me, and I am grateful. You are a loyal friend, Aveline."

"As are you, Hawke." She smiled broadly, green eyes flashing. "I see that I'm just in time to watch your back as you dive into dangerous waters again?"

"What would I do without my favourite guard? C'mon, we're late as it is, and I don't know how fussy Anders is about punctuality."

The quartet crested the top, seeing the Warden pacing like an anxious cat. Relief mingled with surprise washed over his prematurely lined face. "I wasn't sure if you were going to show! Thank the Maker you've come. Karl is inside, and I haven't seen any Templars yet."

"Let's get this over with," Hawke said, moving to the massive doors of the Chantry. It was unusually quiet upon entry. Hawke was accustomed to the murmurs of prayer and the wavering songs of the chants echoing against the vaulted ceilings of the Maker's temple.

Tonight, there were no Sisters drifting about, or Marchers praying or leaving offerings to the Maker and for the needy. The heady smell of incense and candle wax swirled through the all-to-still air, setting Hawke on edge. A terrible feeling was beginning to settle in her stomach, and all of her instincts told her to run, dragging Bethany with her. But fleeing wasn't an option.

Anders gestured that they ascend the eastern stairs to one of the alcoves on the upper level. Standing near an ornate wardrobe and warm bed was the mage they were seeking. His back was facing them, and again, Hawke felt uneasy, her fingers twitched to the hilts of her daggers.

"Anders, I know you too well. I knew you would never give up," came the deep, yet oddly monotone voice of Karl.

"What's wrong? Why are you talking like-"

"I was too rebellious, like you. The Templars knew I had to be... made an example of." He turned to face them all, bearded face devoid of emotion with a bright red sun emblazoned on his forehead. The symbol of the Chantry, and of Tranquility.

"No!" Hawke saw panic and distress rising in the mage, feeling his power seeping through the air.

"How else will mages ever master themselves? You will understand, Anders. As soon as the Templars teach you to control yourself." At that moment, soldiers clad in armor bearing the symbol of the burning sword converged on them. The Templars were moving in, weapons already drawn.

Hawke's panicked eyes sought out her sister, who was torn between flight or fight, her delicate fingers wavering near the shaft of her golden staff. Why had she been so stupid? _Why_ did she think it would be safe to bring Bethany? If they got out of this alive, Hawke knew she would have to really make it up to Aveline.

But something else entirely different was happening on their side of the field. Anders had collapsed, clutching his head in his hands. Suddenly, as if fissures of pure magic were opening along the mage's skin, he began to glow white-hot blue, his otherwise soft eyes blazing with magic.

A voice not his own tore from his throat, "You will _never_ take another mage, as you took him!" This voice was unearthly, full of hatred and defiance. Even Hawke felt herself cowering under the threat of whatever was happening to Anders.

At that very moment she knew there was no turning back. Anders just displayed a large amount of magic that the Templars seriously wouldn't condone. And they were with him. They were accomplices, and they saw Bethany's face. There was no chance that they could leave even a single one of the mage-hunters alive. She shot another glance at her companions.

Varric's finger was already dancing with Bianca's itchy trigger, Aveline barricaded behind her shield, sword held aloft, and Bethany's staff was in hand, concentrating on channeling her magic. That was enough for the rogue.

In the blink of an eye, Hawke had her daggers to hand and was moving lithely, with deadly grace toward the offending party. Aveline bellowed with her charge, locking blades with the Templar Lieutenant that was rallying his men. Bethany's magic blasted soldiers off of their feet, while Bianca's bolts pierced the plates of armor.

Hawke dove in and out of both enemy and ally, slipping her blades deftly through soft flesh at the weak points of armor, throwing flasks that burst into disorienting fogs, searing the lungs of the Templars unlucky enough to inhale.

All the while, Anders was flinging bolts of energy with precision only ever seen from the Dalish elves. He still pulsed with that curious blue glow, clearly executing his wrath on the intruders. With all of their combined talents, the small force of Templars stood no chance. Within minutes, the final soldier, begging for mercy was slain. Anders himself told the man that they had offered Karl no mercy, therefore deserved none himself. He executed the man cowering at his feet, a sinister smile playing across his lips.

"I-Anders! What did you do?" Karl's voice contained all the turmoil and emotion of a mage whose dreams were never severed from the Fade. "It's like...you brought a piece of the Fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like!"

It didn't take long before the mage, whose mind was briefly reclaimed, to be begging for death, never wishing to feel Tranquil again. Hawke looked at Bethany, who couldn't quite bring herself to look at the man they were supposed to be rescuing. Hawke could tell her sister was terrified, being confronted by someone who suffered a fate she had been running from her entire life.

The rogue knew the most merciful thing to do would be to grant the man's wish. Keeping him alive to play puppet to the Templars was cruel, even Varric could see that. The dwarf fidgeted, uncomfortable with the turn the night was taking. Anders stepped up to his friend, taking the knife Hawke offered, and slipped it into Karl, feeling hot blood wash over his hand.

"Let's go before more Templars show up," he stated dispassionately, turning to leave his friend's body on the floor of the Chantry, away from the fallen mage-hunters. Hawke grabbed Bethany's hand and dragged her away as swiftly as Anders left.

She was grateful for the new moon, providing no extra light. That made it significantly harder for any nighttime passersby to notice how she and her companions were splattered with blood. Again.

They followed Anders all the way back down to his clinic in Darktown, not even daring to utter a single word. Even Varric, who was usually quite chatty, held his tongue, knowing that there was a time and a place for words, but this was not one of them.

The healer finally turned to face them, once they were within the confines of his clinic, looking scared and guilty. "That wasn't normal magic you just did, was it?" Hawke asked with a gentle note to her voice, letting him know that she wasn't accusing or attacking him.

"I... This is hard to explain." He shifted uncomfortably, but still made sure to look the rogue in the eyes, a gesture she appreciated. "When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice, who was trapped outside the Fade. We became friends, and he recognized the injustice that mages in Thedas face every day." Hawke felt Bethany tense up next to her.

"What does this have to do with your eyes glowing?" Hawke's sharp ears detected the tiniest of laughs escaping the dwarf's throat.

"To live outside the Fade, he needed a host. I offered to help him. We were going to work together, to bring justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle. But... I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me, he... Changed."

"That didn't really look like a happy, benevolent spirit from where I was standing." Hawke felt a tiny shiver slip through her as she remembered the moment when Anders gave himself over to the spirit in the Chantry, and the rage that emanated from him.

"Since when is justice happy?" Anders retorted. "Justice is righteous. Justice is hard. I wanted to do right by Justice, I really did, but when I see Templars, things that have always outraged me, but I could never do anything about... He comes out, and he is no longer my friend, Justice. He is a force of Vengeance, and he has no grasp of mercy."

"I... Uh..." Hawke cast around for something to say, blurting the only stupid thing that crossed her already aching head, "Wow, your problems make mine seem so small!"

The mage blinked at her lack of tact while the dwarf let out an audible laugh this time, but Anders brushed it off. "Here, these are all the documents I have for this area. I can understand if you would rather me not join you personally. I cannot control my need for vengeance; I would ask no one to take on the danger of traveling with me. I will be here in my clinic if you need me."

"Thank you, Anders."

"I should be thanking you, Hawke. If you weren't there with me..."

"Don't worry about it, Blondie! Getting in _and_ out of trouble is one of Hawke's specialties!" Varric gave the rogue an appraising grin.

The troupe turned and left, Hawke rubbing her eyes. "I think I need a drink... Or three."

"First round's on me, Hawke. I want a look at those maps!" Varric strode beside the rogue, a renewed bounce to his step. "How about you, Sunshine? You up for a pint?" Bethany shrugged, deciding that they had earned a little celebration. "How about you, Aveline?"

At this point, Hawke watched closely to see her reaction. What she saw was exactly what she had expected. The redhead looked like she was leaning toward a definite no.

"I should be back at the barracks..."

"Ave, I want you to come. I owe it to you, and you were right all along. Please?" Hawke fixed her icy blue eyes onto the other's emerald ones, giving Aveline her best puppy-dog expression. To her great pleasure, the guardswoman caved, but stated strongly that she would only have one drink. That was a statement that Hawke knew Varric was vowing to break, and she couldn't wait to see him do it.

They entered the now noisy tavern, making a beeline for the bar. Corff was about to get a little richer tonight. Hawke wanted to get so drunk that she wouldn't be able to remember this night ever again.

But something caught her eye. A group of armed men, probably mercenaries, were surrounding a woman. Her skin was far too dark to be a local, but Hawke couldn't tell where she was from. Antiva, maybe?

The woman didn't seem the least bit bothered by all the threatening and lecherous looks she was drawing from the surrounding group. Hawke couldn't find a reason to blame them for the lust in their eyes, though. A beautifully embroidered indigo scarf held her messy, chocolate curls from her face. She had rich, tan skin, eyes the color of golden whiskey complemented by heavy gold earrings, a small matching stud under her bottom lip and a massive but gorgeous gold choker.

The pendants hanging off of it dangled tantalizingly over her more than ample cleavage, not hidden in the least by the open v-neck of her white tunic. A corset to match was laced tightly up her midriff, emphasizing the presence of her bosom even more than it already was.

It took Hawke a second glance to realize that this temptress wore no pants at all. Instead, she let the length of her tunic stretch down as far as it would go, barely covering below her waist. A rich blue scarf to match the one in her hair was tied loosely around her hips, heavy leather boots adorned with multiple straps and buckles up their lengths made it half way up her thighs. Hawke watched this woman from across the room, barely aware of that fact that the rest of the patrons were doing the same.

"You owe us, Isabela," said the man who appeared to be the leader.

"Well, Lucky, I'll tell you what," came the rich voice of molten honey from the woman. She didn't even look up at him as she downed a whole mug of Corff's ale. "Since the information you cave me was worth nothing," she drank more after refilling her mug again. "That's what I'll pay you." A small smirk crossed her lips.

Lucky slammed his hand down on Isabela's mug, preventing her from drinking again. "Me and my boys will get our money's worth, bitch!"

"Oh, you poor, sweet thing," Isabela simpered, moving her face awfully close to Lucky's. But Hawke's eyes saw what she was doing, as the woman moved her hand slyly to grasp the offending man's wrist.

It happened before he even knew what was going on. Isabela yanked him forward, slamming his head into the bar twice before he slid to the floor. Hawke, Bethany and Varric were now watching the ensuing brawl with amusement, while Aveline looked on with distaste toward the riled crowd.

Isabela was quick, lithe and wasted not a single opportunity or move, but she wasn't quick enough for the rogue not to see every play she made, every way she manipulated the attacks against her to her advantage. Hawke was impressed.

Lucky finally dragged himself off of the floor, moving to draw his sword. Unfortunately for him, Isabela was too fast. One of her daggers was already at his throat, while her other hand danced around the hilt to its twin.

"Tell me, Lucky," she said in all seriousness. "Is this worth dying for?" The poor bastard at knifepoint flitted his panicked eyes from Isabela to all of his beaten men strewn about the bar. He slowly pushed his blade back into place before leaving, his battered cronies in tow.

"I didn't think so," the beauty chuckled to herself after slamming down the rest of her unspilled drink. Now Hawke _had_ to meet this woman, and approached her casually, no longer conscious of the fact that she was still coated in quickly-browning blood.

"You're new around here, aren't you?" Isabela said, noticing the purposeful approach of the rogue and her companions. "Welcome, and keep your wits about you; you're nothing but tits and ass to the men in this place, and they won't hesitate to grab at both."

Hawke felt the heat rising in her face when she saw Isabela staring at what lay beneath her jerkin and leggings." Speaking from experience, are we?" she offered, drinking in the other woman's ample self as subtly as possible.

Isabela chuckled at the quip. "After a few broken fingers here and there, they got the idea. I'm Isabela," she said, bowing so Hawke could get another eyeful of her chest. Her face felt even hotter than before. "Previously 'Captain' Isabela. Sadly, without my ship, the title rings a bit hollow." This time, the woman's honey eyes bored into Hawke's own blue ones. "You're from Ferelden, aren't you? You have that look about you." Her eyes took another brazen trip up and down the rogue's body, and Hawke shifted self-consciously under her scrutiny.

"I was in Denerim not too long ago," the woman stated plainly. "You know, you might be just what I'm looking for to solve a little problem I have." Hawke found her mind jumping to all sorts of places that she tried to keep to only herself.

"Can't anyone fix their own lives around here?" Hawke replied with a think dollop of sarcasm, smirking at the dark-skinned beauty.

"Must be something in the water," Isabela shrugged, matching Hawke's sarcasm. "Someone from my past has been pestering me," she went on with a slightly more serious tone. "I've arranged for a duel. If I win, he leaves me alone. But I don't trust him to play fair. I need someone to watch my back."

"I think I could manage watching your back," Hawke said suggestively. Bethany giggled and she could hear Aveline scoff, knowing that the guardswoman was rolling her eyes in disgust.

Isabela laughed again. "I'll bet," she said, with a purr to her voice. I've arranged to meet Hayder in Hightown, after dark." The beauty moved to brush past Hawke, but she stopped her.

"Do you want only me, or can my friends come along?" Hawke gestured to the group standing behind her.

"That depends," Isabela mused, looking at Aveline the longest, who returned the gaze with a stiff glare. "Can they be trusted?"

Varric scoffed. "Come now, Rivaini, you know you can trust me! Bianca has had a liking for you from the start!"

"Varric, you and that _beautiful_ crossbow can come!" Of course Varric would know Isabela, he knows everyone. Information is his trade.

"This is my sister, Bethany." Hawke gestured to the young mage, and Isabela gave her a less-than-chaste go over with her eyes, and the rogue wanted to step between them, but Bethany showed little sign of discomfort.

"And this is my friend, Aveline." The other woman returned her attention to the still glowering guard, unsure what to make of her.

"Is she going to be a problem?"

"Talk about me like that again, and I'll give you a problem!"

"Easy, Aveline. It's been a long day, and there's been enough bloodshed already." Hawke fixed her friend with another irresistible, imploring gaze. Aveline's stance relaxed a little, giving her companion a small nod.

"Ooh, it must be nice to have a member of the guard in your pocket," Isabela said, after closely watching the transaction.

"I am _not_ a corrupt guard!" Aveline said hotly. "If you _ever_ insinuate that I am such, I swear to Andraste, I will break you!" The guard drew herself up to her full height, bearing down on Isabela.

"Easy there, Big Girl! I was just commenting on who is clearly in charge here." Her eyes flashed to Hawke's.

"Back down, _both_ of you!" The authority in the rogue's voice could not be mistaken. Isabela drew away, relinquishing Aveline from her taunting, but dying to see what else lay beneath the unassuming facade of the Fereldan rogue.

"C'mon, Beth. It's late, let's not keep Mother waiting." Hawke tugged at the mage's robes, heading toward the door. They entered the cool night air, the smell of tar and smoke stinging their noses. They walked side-by-side in silence, unable to find words.

"Beth," Hawke said, not meeting her sister's eyes. "I... I'm so sorry. I was so fucking stupid. You could've been-"

"Hush, Sister. It's okay. It all worked out."

"Yes, but at what cost?" Hawke glanced down at her blood-spattered armor. "How could I have been so selfish?" A tear blazed its way down her cheek. They had stopped walking by then, and both were facing each other. "We've spent so much time, keeping you safe, and I practically threw it all away just for some stupid map!"

"Marian, stop. It's not your fault. You're doing this so we can do this expedition. The money and standing we will gain from it will help protect me. You're not being selfish, Sister. Right now, you need to sleep." Hawke nodded, sniffling like a little child, allowing herself to be led back to their Lowtown shack.

They snuck in, the sound of Gamlen's snores greeting their return. Leandra was slumped in a chair beside the dying fire, a book sat crumpled at her feet. Bethany nodded, moving to rouse her mother while Hawke tread quietly to their room. She stripped out of her soiled leathers, and donned a soft, cotton sleep shift. The rogue hung her daggers on the wall, staring at the centerpiece in the dim candlelight.

Bethany padded in softly, seeing her sibling cross-legged on the dusty floor, staring up at the sword of her late brother. She walked over, gently placing a hand on Hawke's stiff shoulder. "I miss him too. Sometimes I even miss your bickering over scuffles and duels, always keeping secrets from Mother and Father." She saw a small smile touch the corner of her sister's thin mouth.

"You carry too much, Marian. Do not carry the weight of the dead."

"How can I? Bethany, it all started in blood. That's the only way any of this will end. Father, Carver, our kinsman and everything in between. It's all been marked in blood."

"It's too late to dwell on such things. Get yourself into your bed, and I'll help you fall asleep."

Those were the only occasions when Bethany truly acted as an elder sibling, and not just a little girl. She watched Hawke climb up to her bunk, and then stood on her tiptoes, placing a hand on the rogue's cheek. Her fingers lit up with soft green light, while she sang a delicate little tune under her breath.

" 'M glad that Sister Lelianna taught you to sing..." Hawke mumbled before slipping off to sleep. Bethany smiled at her sister, pulling herself up to place a kiss upon her sibling's forehead. She blew out the solitary candle and drifted off to wander among the Fade.


	4. Isabela's Gambit

Bethany woke up to the sound of splashing water. She looked over to see her sister already out of bed and getting herself ready. Hawke took some mint from the pouch and chewed it up.

"Did you have any nightmares?" Bethany asked.

"Not a one. Your magic did the trick," Hawke gave her sibling a bleary morning smile. "So, what do you think of that pirate, Isabela?"

"I don't really know," Bethany mused, stripping out of her sleep shift. "I have a feeling that nothing dull will ever happen with her around. Why do you ask?"

"I just needed to know. We are helping her out tonight, and if you were uncomfortable..." Hawke trailed off, watching Bethany out of the corner of her eye.

The mage immediately understood that Hawke was still upset about the events of the previous night. "This is a duel between scoundrels, Sister. No Templars, and no other apostates. It will be fine." Bethany had pulled on her robes and walked over to wrap her arms around her sister. Hawke took a deep breath, telling herself that worrying too much would help no one.

"You're right," she said, facing the mage. "And you're not a little girl any more. I love you."

"I love you too," Bethany replied with a hug. Hawke removed herself from the embrace and picked up her armor. "If we're helping out ruffians, I've got to have this clean and ready."

"You might want to stay in here and do that; Mother won't be too happy to see all those blood stains after coming home so late last night." Hawke nodded in agreement, picking up her polishing rag and a tin of leather oil.

Once she had finished, she slipped into the leathers, and entered the main room. Leandra embraced her daughter.

"I was so worried about you both last night! After Carver... I just can't help but think..."

"It was fine, Mother. We are all safe. I'm here another day to irritate Uncle Gamlen!" Mangy barked happily at that, while Gamlen grumbled about them being ungrateful for his hospitality. Hawke pulled some silvers out of her money pouch. "Why don't you and Bethany go get something edible to keep in the house? I have to run an errand."

"What are you doing, Sister?" Bethany looked surprised.

"It's for Aveline," she replied, knowing the mage would pick up on her intentions immediately. "I shouldn't be too long. I'll be back in time for lunch."

Hawke looked through all the items offered from the Lowtown vendors, and saw nothing that would be a suitable gift for the loyal warrior. Maybe Hightown would have something better? Hawke found a woman selling Fereldan goods. Something from home might work.

She opened up a small box that contained strips of leather and fabric. In the tangle she extracted a braided suede headband. It was red, just like the one Aveline always used to keep her hair out of her ever-watchful eyes.

"Do you do any leather-working?" Hawke held out the small garment to the vendor.

"Depends. Whatcha need me to do?"

"On the end of the tie here, could you stamp in the name Wesley?"

"I can do that, but it'll cost extra."

"I'll pay."

"Gimme a mo'" The woman snatched the piece from the rogue's hand. "Here ya go." She handed it back after about twenty minutes, and Hawke looked down to see the name elegantly worked into the leather.

"This is fine work. What else can you do?"

"Depends on what you'll pay for. And speakin' of which, that'll be two silvers and fifteen bits, no hagglin'!"

"Thank you." Hawke dropped the money in the woman's hand and moved off to the barracks. When she arrived, Aveline was already on patrol. Brennan told her she would be back in a little over a an hour. To occupy her time, Hawke offered to spar with some of the recruits. Most of them only faced off with other recruits equipped with swords. The rogue knew they needed to have experience with opponents who wielded smaller, faster weapons.

She gave those brave enough to face her a sound beating, but not without progress. They may have been recruits, but they weren't stupid, and they picked up on her techniques fairly quickly. They worked up quite a sweat, but Hawke wasn't even winded. She gave them credit though, for wearing their armor while sparring.

"Harplin," came a stern voice. "Don't be so stiff. Loosen up your sword arm a little more, that way you're more flexible, and can move to block Hawke's attacks better. Fluidity is better than trying to stop a blow with brute force. Give it a try, recruit."

Hawke smirked, putting herself in an offensive position, gripping the wooden daggers in her hands. She moved to press her advantage on the young boy, slashing with quick, precise movements. But the boy listened to the guardswoman's advice, parrying and shifting Hawke's movements instead of only bracing against them.

He held his own longer than he did previously, but Hawke's weapons still found their way to his throat, calling the end of the bout. "You'll get there, Harplin," Hawke said, shaking his hand. "You've got good potential." He blushed at her compliment.

"I see you've been giving them the thrashing they needed, Hawke." Aveline walked up to her, amusement dancing in her green eyes.

"Well, you weren't here, so I had to step in and do something about it!"

"You should come in more often. I might even convince Jeven to compensate you for it."

"Maybe I will." Hawke found herself having trouble meeting her friend's gaze. "Aveline, I... Maker, I'm so sorry. I should have never said those things! You're not a coward; you're brave! And I was a fool! You were absolutely right about everything that happened last night and I-"

"Hawke!"

"W-What?"

"I know. You don't have to say anything. I'll always be by your side. So, for the Maker's sake, don't say anything else, or you'll end up embarrassing yourself!"

The rogue smiled sheepishly. "Here." She pulled the small gift from a pouch on her belt and offered it to the warrior. "This made me think of you, and yours is getting pretty worn."

"Thank you, Hawke. You're a true friend."

"Look at the end there, on the ties."

Aveline looked down and saw the name of her late husband. Her lip trembled ever so slightly as she ran her thumb over the suede. She took no time in pulling her old one off and tying the new one around her head. "Thank you," she whispered.

"I will never take you for granted."

"I know, Hawke. It's okay."

Hawke cleared her throat awkwardly. "So... Do you think you'll come with me tonight? To help Isabela?" Aveline's face changed immediately.

"She's the kind of person I arrest, Hawke, not aid. But, for you, I'll be there."

"Thanks, Ave! I owe you a pint at the Hanged Man! I'll see you tonight!" The rogue left, feeling a weight lifted off of her chest. Apologies weren't her thing, but she couldn't let anything bad come between her and the guardswoman.

She was making her way through Lowtown, when a woman's voice brushed up against her ear, "Will I be seeing your lovely self tonight?"

"Isabela? Don't you have a duel to prepare for?"

"Going to the Rose then getting drunk at the Hanged Man _is_ how I prepare for a duel, Sweet Thing," she purred, falling into step with Hawke. "What do _you_ do to prepare for a duel?" Her honey eyes fixed onto the rogue's face.

"Not get drunk and go to brothels!"

"Oh, you're no fun! I was hoping you'd be more playful than your friend, the guard."

"You don't know that," Hawke teased, slipping a glance at the Rivaini.

"Does that mean you will show me just how fun you _can_ be?"

"I don't know if you could handle all of me."

Isabela's brow arched with interest at the small comment. "That, Sweet Thing, is a challenge. A duelist never backs down from a challenge. Especially one as delicious as you."

Hawke felt the Rivaini was all too close in an all too public area. However, she found it hard to pull away; the pirate's draw was undeniably strong. She felt a blush creeping up her face.

"What are you thinking about, while you're doing everything in your power not to look at me?" They had arrived outside the Hanged Man, and Isabela leaned casually against the wall near the entrance.

"Boring stuff," Hawke lied.

"Oh really? Do you mean boring for me, or for you? Both?"

"You are really nosy, you know that?"

"I have to be! Knowing those around me is what keeps me alive."

"Am I threatening your life?"

"No, but I am counting on you to help me tonight, which is as good as. I need to know that I actually can trust you to do so. Although..." A dangerous glint touched the woman's gaze. "I could _really_ gauge you before tonight if you followed me in here." She jerked her head to the tavern before moving in terribly close to Hawke. She could smell whiskey, incense and something like eucalyptus rolling off of the pirate.

Hawke could only stammer a little, trying to back away, but the Rivaini kept advancing with every retreating step the rogue took. "M-Maker's breath, Isabela... This is... W-we shouldn't,"

"What's wrong, Sweet Thing?" she whispered into Hawke's ear, her hot breath sending an involuntary shiver down the rogue's spine.

"I have to go meet my sister!" she blurted, her voice a little higher than usual, feeling the blush raging in her face. "I'll see you tonight, Isabela!" She turned and half-ran away, completely thrown by the other woman.

It wasn't the first time women had offered themselves up to her, and Hawke had tested those waters before. She found both sexes to be highly enjoyable in their own ways, and Hawke had taken a number of lovers in her time; A fact that Bethany tried to ignore and Leandra... Well, Hawke wasn't as bad as Carver.

But she couldn't figure out what it was about the pirate that turned her into a gibbering schoolgirl that hadn't even had her first kiss. Isabela slid right under her skin with a scant few words, and this frustrated Hawke, who was never without a sarcastic comment or smart mouth.

She walked into the hovel they tried to call home, and met a slobbery greeting from Mangy, and returned the favor by tackling him to the ground and wrestling with the hound. Bethany giggled when the war dog nipped her older sister on the nose and yipped with pleasure.

"I'm supposed to be restoring our family name and standing, and here you are, rolling on the floor with the dog," Leandra said with a laugh.

"Hey, you raised me!" Hawke said, popping up from her tumble with Mangy.

"I suppose I failed then, didn't I." The older woman smiled at her child. "At least Bethany is more of a lady. Finding her a husband will be much easier." The sisters both choked and then stared at their mother with looks of abject horror. "Oh, come now, you didn't think I would let my daughters run around forever? Some day, you will need a man to settle with."

"Or beat up," Hawke muttered so only Bethany could hear. She strode over to the little bedroom, motioning for her sister to follow. They entered, and Hawke shut the door closed behind them.

"Is everything okay, Sister? How did it go with Aveline?"

"It went really great, actually. We love each other too much to be angry for too long."

"I knew it would work out! You two are best friends. You'd follow each other to the Void and back if you had to."

"Beth- About tonight," the rogue started.

The mage rolled her eyes. "You're not trying to dissuade me from coming along, are you? I mean, we literally talked about it this morning!"

"No. No. I mean, I ran into Isabela on my way back here, and I'm starting to see that the kind of people she makes enemies with aren't clean cut. Their morals are probably non-existent, and they're going to be dangerous. I just don't want you to underestimate what we're going to be stepping into."

"Marian, you don't have to worry! I will be fine. Besides, it's usually me saving your ass from trouble, isn't it? How many times have I turned some guy about to stab you into a piece of raider barbeque? How many times have I healed you?" How many times-"

"Okay, okay, I get it! Andraste's tits, Beth, you don't have to rub it in!"

Hawke and her sister arranged to meet up with Aveline at the Hanged Man shortly before nightfall. The pirate was nowhere to be seen, but Varric insisted on tagging along, saying that he would never miss out on an opportunity to make another great story.

The four of them set out for Hightown, encountering no trouble along the way. They finally came to an open courtyard near the Red Lantern District. Isabela was pacing back and forth, clearly agitated.

"There you are! I've been waiting for hours!"

"You said nightfall; it's barely dark outside."

"I'm impatient, but no one has shown up. It's making me nervous."

Hawke was about to tell the Rivaini to ease up a bit, but a group of heavily armed mercenaries entered the courtyard. The leader shouted out to kill Isabela and her companions on Hayder's orders. Hawke's daggers were already drawn before the order had been completely delivered.

The following battled ended rather swiftly. Though the assailants were well armed, it was clear that their skills were very lacking. Hawke found that she worked seamlessly with the other rogue, weaving in and out of armed bodies, Hawke disabled many of the mercenaries, leaving them vulnerable for her formidable guard companion.

Isabela simply melted into the shadows, disappearing entirely before revealing herself behind one of the combatants. Hawke noticed that she would whisper, "Boo!" into their ears before slitting their throats. Afterward, she would melt away again. Hawke was more than impressed with the pirate's skills by the time they finished off the last of them. She could even see that Aveline was eyeing her with a hint of appraisal, judging her a little differently now that they had shared combat.

They searched the bodies, an act that Bethany always looked away from. A note left on the leader revealed that Hayder was cowering in the Chantry, the sanctity of which Isabela took no pause in violating. She set off at a run for the building, and Hawke followed, with little choice. This man was clearly intent on killing the Rivaini, and the rogue wasn't about to let her go in alone.

They strode up the main hall, their footsteps echoing uncomfortably loudly off of the walls. It felt all too much like their previous night in the holy building, and it set Hawke on edge.

A tall, well-built man in light armor approached them from a stairwell. "Isabela! Should've known you'd find me here." He was speaking casually, but his wolfish eyeing of the pirate did not escape Hawke's attention.

"Tell your men to burn the letters next time," she replied coolly.

"Castillon was heartbroken when he heard about the shipwreck," he drawled. Other mercenaries started appearing, gathering around Hayder. Isabela was right; he was not going to play fair.

"You should've let him know you survived!"

"Must have slipped my mind," she stated casually.

"Where's the Relic?" Hayder's voice contained a deadly tone that raised the hairs on the back of Hawke's neck. Nothing good was going to come of this. She could tell that her companions felt the same. Hawke heard Aveline's armor as she slid into a more defensive stance, and noted the sound of leather gloves on Bianca's trigger. The sensation of pure energy tingled from where Bethany stood. This could be bloody.

"I lost it." Isabela's tone now matched her adversary's. "Castillon's just going to have to do without."

"You lost it? Just like you lost a ship full of valuable cargo?"

"They weren't cargo, Hayder! They were people!" So the pirate didn't like slavery. Hawke looked at her fellow rogue with more respect.

"Those slaves were worth a hundred sovereigns a head, and you let them scurry off into the wilds! And now, the Relic's gone too. Castillon won't be happy to hear about that... I promise you!"

This was the point where Hawke knew that there would be no good way out of this. Even though it was Isabela's play, she wanted to try to talk him down.

"Castillon isn't a very happy person, is he? Maybe he needs a new hobby!" Hawke hoped that perhaps a little humor would diffuse the tension a little.

"There's only one way to settle this." Isabela drew a dagger hidden Maker knows where, and threw it solidly into the heart of one of Hayder's cronies. The fight was on, and Hawke's party was more than prepared. They were outnumbered, but none of the thugs had any spectacular skill.

For a second time that night, Hawke worked seamlessly with the other woman, weaving in and out of the maelstrom, striking with deadly precision, working from the sidelines. She liked how they could easily read the other's moves, playing off of the other. It wasn't long before every single one of Hayder's men fell, leaving just him for Isabela. She slid up behind him, drawing her blade firmly across his throat. The Void was the only place for him now. They looted the bodies, Hawke excited to find a very fine dagger hidden against Hayder's thigh.

"Maker save us, look at all of these bodies! And in the _Chantry!_" Bethany looked like she about to be sick or pass out. Hawke grasped her sister's shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

"I was trying to talk him down," she shot at the pirate.

"Trust me, it's better this way." She looked more relaxed, pleased almost. "Castillon won't hear about me from Hayder, but he'll find me eventually. I just have to get him the Relic," she shrugged. "Simple as that."

Hawke discovered that Isabela had no idea what the Relic was, or why it was so important, but she did know that Castillon had her chasing it down across Thedas as punishment for freeing the slaves. And by punishment, she meant that he hoped she would die trying to get it. Hawke was liking the Rivaini more and more. She liked her crooked, vague sense of morals, her constant banter about sex, and she loved the way the rogue fought, dirty and to the point.

"If getting the relic gets Castillon off your back, then I'll help you retrieve it," Hawke stated firmly. Aveline groaned quite audibly.

"I still don't know where it is, but you'll be the first to know if I hear anything. Anyway, thanks for helping me out with Hayder! I think I'll tag along for a while," Aveline let out another noise of discontent. "There might be something I can do for you," her brow cocked as she gave Hawke sultry look. "And I have a room at the Hanged Man if you're looking for... company later." She left, leaving Hawke's mouth feeling dry.

"You're going to let that wench hang around?" Aveline asked.

"Oh come on, Ave! You and Bethany aside, when have I ever kept the most wholesome company?" Varric snickered.

"She's trouble, Hawke, and you know it!"

"She's useful! I know you were watching her when we fought, and I know you saw she was a good ally to have in battle! Besides, sometimes it's good to have some friends in low places."

"Fine," the guardswoman threw her hands in the air. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I. Now, let's leave before we're caught in the heart of the Chantry with all of these corpses."

"Hear, hear!" the dwarf quipped. "Want to grab a pint, Hawke?"

"I can't," she said glancing at the too-pale Bethany as they made for the exit. He followed her gaze and nodded.

"Another night, then." They all departed in silence, no one glancing back at the mess they left behind them.

"Beth..." Hawke said gently once they were closed in their small bedroom.

"That was two Chantry massacres two nights in a row! How long before they trace it back to us?"

"You know they won't, Beth. Varric takes care of that stuff."

"We need to be more careful what fights we pick, and where!"

"It's hard to be picky when we have no coin-"

"You think I don't know that? I don't mean to be so harsh, but... Marian, I'm so scared! Everything about this city... It sets me on edge. Especially with all the blasted Templars!"

"I can't tell you not to worry. We are all worried, and I've played my hand poorly. I should be doing more to protect you..."

"Marian. Don't. Please, let's just... Let's just go to bed."


	5. A Night at the Hanged Man

Several weeks had passed since their night in the Chantry with Isabela. Hawke had acquired two new companions in her endeavors. When she traveled to Sundermount to settle her debt with Flemeth, the witch who rescued them from the Blight, they came away with a Dalish mage called Merrill. She was young, and First to her clan's Keeper, Marethari. The elf was naive and innocent of the ways of humans, but she was powerful.

She was taught well in the arcane arts, and knew how to wield them against her enemies. But she meddled in dangerous things. It turned out that she was well-versed in the arts of Blood Magic, something everyone rightfully feared. However, she had remarkable control over it, keeping hard concentration. Despite her uses of forbidden magic, she was sweet, well-meaning and endearing to all. Varric made sure to look after her while she got used to Kirkwall, and Isabela was determined to break that veil of innocence.

Merrill wasn't the only elf they made as an ally. However, this other one was nothing like Merrill. His name was Fenris, and he was a slave that escaped from the Tevinter Imperium. He was a powerful warrior, who carried all of his hatred and regret in every swing of his greatsword.

His former master, Danarius, a powerful Tevinter Magister, had carved lyrium into Fenris' own skin, giving him a unique ability. He could tap into the power of the lyrium veins and was able to thrust his fist through a man's body, clenching onto his heart and crushing it with one squeeze of his hand.

He hated any and all magic. It had been used against him, scarred him and the enchantments used to embed the silvery substance into his body erased his memory. He no longer knew his former life, or what freedom was like, thanks to magic and the greed of those who used it.

He was always wary of Bethany, but respected her for her equal abhorrence of Blood Magic and choice to heal more than hurt. Anders, on the other hand, Fenris despised. He could never bring himself to fully trust the revolutionary mage that took a spirit into his body. As for Merrill, it was lucky that Hawke could get the former slave to not slay the Dalish girl, let alone get them to even stay in the same room.

Merrill never fully grasped Fenris' hatred toward her. She knew her Blood Magic was a taboo art, but she knew she had in under control, and didn't use it to bargain with demons for freedom, or domination. She was always kind to him, in the hopes that he may never forgive her, but at least tolerate her.

They were all settled around a table late one night at the Hanged Man. It had become a tradition for the group to get together and play a few rowdy rounds of Wicked Grace. Even Aveline, the newly appointed Guard Captain came to loosen up over a few pints of ale. Anders sat near the edge, scribbling away on a scroll. He was already disgruntled from earlier. He left to go relieve himself, and Isabela took the scroll and drew breasts all around the edges. Everyone was snickering when he came in, and the look on his face when he found out why had everyone roaring with laughter. Even Fenris chuckled louder than usual, but he relished every prank played on the Warden.

Merrill normally sat out on most rounds, because she was so terrible at the game. However, Isabela would play as a team with her, to help teach the elf how to play. That usually backfired, though, as Merrill was in the habit of pointing out or squealing with delight every time Isabela cheated.

That particular night, they were celebrating Hawke and Bethany officially reaching thirty sovereigns to put toward investing in Bartrand's expedition. Aveline and Fenris were the only two members of their company not drinking. Hawke definitely had a few too many pints, and the little Dalish was still trying to get accustomed to human alcohol and drinking habits. She seriously could not hold her liquor. Bethany's cheeks were unusually pink, as Isabela talked her into having several shots of whiskey. She giggled when the pirate asked if Bethany was willing to try some body shots. Hawke picked up an empty tankard and threw it at her for coming onto her sister again for the thousandth time.

"Hey! What was that for! I wasn't trying to get into her pants, just some innocent slurping of alcohol out of your sister's naval!" She gave the younger Hawke a very undisguised brazen look.

"You are _not_ doing that to _my_ sister!" Bethany was blushing furiously as the two rogues argued over her.

"Come _on_, Hawke! The poor girl's never had a man before! She made a very naughty gesture with her hand. "Or even a woman, for that matter..." Isabela licked her lips hungrily. No one thought Bethany's face could get much redder, but it certainly did.

"Had a man?" Merrill slurred, confused. "But there are men all over here! Maybe we can't count Varric, though, since he's not _really_ a man! He's a dwarf. And then we couldn't include Fenris, either, by that logic!" She hiccupped a little.

Everyone burst out laughing again. "Having a man, Kitten, means having sex with him," Isabela calmly explained. "Either way, Hawke, you're keeping your sister from enjoying one of the greatest things a woman can have. Nothing like feeling an orgasm at the hands of someone half-drunk, desperate to hear you moan into the night-"

"And I will continue to do so if it's the likes of you that keep coming after her!" Hawke's temper flared under the influence of too much ale. She didn't want to think of her sister in the throes of passion.

"Okay... How about this." The Rivaini's sly eyes focused onto Hawke's. "If I win this next round, Bethany gets a night at the Rose on me!"

"And if I win...?"

"Then I get you, instead." She slid the toe of her boot up Hawke's leg, under the table. She shivered at the sudden contact.

"You're going to cheat!"

"I won't!" Isabela held up her hand as though swearing an oath. "I swear, by Andraste's milky tits that I won't cheat!"

"Merrill," Hawke said to the elf. "You know her cheating best, keep an eye on her, won't you?"

"Anything for you, Hawke!"

Varric dealt the cards as Norah brought over more ale and plate of salted pork. Everyone watched intently, unable to decide which of the two sneaky women would win the game. Bethany was torn over which rogue she wanted to be the victor. She didn't quite trust the pirate enough to dictate her love life, or lack thereof. But, she was a little frustrated with Marian's constant sheltering. She knew it came from a lifetime of protecting her from the Circle, but it was hard to get her sister to see that she wasn't just a child anymore.

It wasn't long before they started placing bets on who was going to win. The group seemed pretty evenly divided, and busied themselves with more drink and food while the two battled it out. It seemed for a while that Isabela had the upper hand, and would be taking the cake. However, Hawke had been saving her play, intentionally letting the pirate think she was winning so she would get overconfident through a haze of whiskey, the temptation of a small pile of silvers sitting in the pot, and her drive to trump Hawke.

When the final hand was played, though, Hawke hung Isabela out to dry. She used what she had been saving in her hand for the entire round, and the sight of the Rivaini's disbelief was more than enough satisfaction for her.

She turned to look at Bethany and gauge her reaction to her victory, but Isabela leaping over the table to plant herself firmly on Hawke's lap thoroughly distracted the rogue.

"Isa-" But she never finished, because her lips were suddenly caught in a searing kiss. The Pirate's mouth was hot and firm against her own. Her lips tasted like whiskey and spice, her tongue urgent to explore the victor's own mouth.

A little jolt of pleasure flashed through her brain and she found herself pulling Isabela firmly against her body, loving the feel of the pirate's smooth thighs squeezing against her own hips, noticing a slight rocking. The dusky beauty took no time in moving her hand to fondle one of Hawke's breasts through her jerkin.

It was the catcalls, whoops and whistles from more than just her own companions that brought her back to reality. She reluctantly broke away, blushing furiously at her lack of control. She looked into Isabela's eyes; they held nothing but pure, unbridled, carnal lust, and it desperately made the elder Hawke want to abandon all propriety again.

"My room. Now." Isabela slid off of her prey, trying to tug her out of her chair.

"No." Hawke mentally winced at denying the beautiful temptress before her.

"What did you say?"

"I'm not going to have sex with you," she replied with a little more authority. "Not tonight, anyway," muttered under her breath.

"Maker's saggy balls you are! The deal was that I get _you_ if _you_ win. Last I checked, you beat me soundly!"

"I said you could have me, but I never said you could have _all_ of me. Nor did I say when you could have all of me." She smirked in triumph. "It takes more than winning a bet in Wicked Grace to get me to bed, Isabela." The slightest glint of a challenge lingered in Hawke's pale blue eyes.

"Looks like I'll have to try harder. Easy is fun, but a challenging dare makes going in for the kill simply," she leaned in to whisper into the rogue's ear. "_Exquisite._"

All of Hawke's blood was suddenly pounding in her ears, feeling as though she had been knocked over the head and left dazed. She gazed wistfully upon the swaying form of the woman sauntering away from her. Her mouth went completely dry, and she failed to take notice of anyone else around her. "I need to go," she blurted, before dashing out of the tavern.

Hawke jogged all the way to the docks, stripped out of her armor and stowed it in a nearby barrel. She leapt off the edge and into the icy seawater below. She surfaced, wiping her short ebony locks from her face. Nothing could have prepared her for what the feeling of the Rivaini against her was going to be like.

Sure, she had thought about it before, but her fantasies paled in comparison to the real thing. She closed her eyes, trying to clear her head that was still fuzzy from all the ale. But every time her lids closed, she saw copper skin, smelled whiskey and girl-sweat, felt the heat of a dominating, but still-pliant, mouth on her own. She was in trouble.

Hawke crept back into Gamlen's hovel in the early hours of the morning. Mangy snuffled a little, when looking up to see his master before promptly going back to sleep. She took a couple of logs near the hearth, and laid them over the faintly glowing embers. Afterward, she opened the bedroom door as quietly as she possibly could, wincing at every creak and groan of the old wood. She was ascending the ladder to her bunk when she heard the rustle of wool blankets below.

"M'rian? Is that you?" Hawke sighed heavily.

"If it wasn't, Mangy would be making a fuss. Go back to sleep, Beth."

"Wha' 'bout tonight? Shouldn' we talk?"

"No, what you need is sleep. We can talk when your two eyes are open! Now hush, Sister." Bethany grunted quietly before rolling over and was soon snoring softly. The rogue lay in her bunk, staring up at the darkened ceiling inches from her face. What exactly did Bethany want to discuss? It was undoubtedly something to do with her... interaction with the sultry pirate. But maybe she just wanted to talk about her still trying to protect the young mage. Hawke knew that what she did was out of line, but she would slit throats to protect Bethany from greedy lust.

These thoughts plagued her until the sun began to break the horizon, when sleep finally stole over her. It felt as though only a few minutes had passed when she felt a finger prodding into her side. She tried to ignore it, but the finger was poking harder. Hawke rolled over, groaning loudly to express her displeasure.

"Wake up, sleepy! A messenger came by today! I think there's a new job for us!"

"This early?"

"Well, I heard it from one of the criers, but still..."

Hawke swung her legs over the edge of the bed and jumped down, only to crumble to the floor, clutching her throbbing head. Bethany was immediately at her side, asking if she was okay.

"Just too much ale last night, Beth. Maker knows I can take a hit like any man, but this pounding in my head..." Hawke retched, a small bit of bile dribbling out of her mouth. Bethany made is disappear with a wave of her hand before placing a mint leaf in her sibling's mouth.

"That should calm your stomach. I'll get you some water once I've taken care of your headache." She gently rested her hand on Hawke's head, and began to whisper under her breath, channeling her magic into a calming wave. She heard her hung-over sister sigh in relief. She helped the bedraggled woman into the bottom bunk before fetching a mug of water.

She got some of the liquid into Hawke before singing her to sleep. Bethany got up and slipped on her soft leather boots, snatching up her father's staff before entering the main room.

"Is everything okay, dear? I heard a bit of a ruckus in there."

"It's nothing, Mother. Marian just took a little tumble!" Bethany giggled at her mother's expression. "She's just _really_ hung over from our game last night!"

"Thought you were supposed to be saving your blasted coin, not pissing it away at the Hanged Man," Gamlen grumbled.

"Maybe Mother would like to know where you piss all of _your_ coin away, Uncle?"

"N-no need for that! I'll just uh..."

The mage gave the man a satisfied sneer before she heard the weak calls of her sister. She strutted past the grumpy codger to the bedroom. Marian was on her side, looking like she was hoping she could claw her way out of the bed and across the floor. Her arm was slung over the edge, sort of pawing at the ground.

"What in the Maker's name do you think you're doing? You're supposed to be resting," she giggled, looking over her sister's haggard form.

"Beth. C'mere. What was the job you heard about from the crier?"

"Some merchant in Hightown needs help with a problem at his mine, I think. But you're in no shape to go traipsing around anywhere."

"You're probably right, but take Mangy and go talk to Varric about it. See if he thinks 's worth putting time into. 'Cause y'know what he says, "Time 's coin!"

"We'll get there, Sister. We'll get the coin."

"If Varric thinks the job's good, see if Ave wants in, and maybe Fenris?"

"What about your pirate?"

Hawke choked on the water she was gingerly sipping. "_My_ pirate? I'm sorry... _What!?_"

"Well, I mean... It seemed pretty, uh... intense last night..."

"We were drunk, Beth. I don't think Isabela wants anything more than a tumble. Now, before you press the issue further and make my head hurt more, go and talk to Varric. I should be feeling better by the time you return." She offered up a weak smile and then turned onto her back, groaning lightly.

The mage took the quickest path to the infamous tavern, Mangy dancing around her legs, happy to be out. She had been living in Kirkwall long enough to not be surprised to see just how many patrons were in there before midday. She strode right up to Varric's suite, knocking gently before entering the room.

"Ah, Sunshine! I knew it was you or Daisy; only you two knock so softly on a Dwarf's door." The Mabari bounded forward, giving the merchant prince a slobbery greeting. "What can I do for you?"

"Have you heard anything about the Hightown merchant having some sort of trouble with his mine?"

"I hear many things, Sunshine." He pushed a platter of fruits and cheeses toward the young Hawke. "I've had minor dealings with him. He's Orlesian, but pushes a hard bargain. He's shrewd when it counts, but fair to those he knows equals him. All the makings of someone bound to make coin off of brainless nobles.

"He owns a mine on the outskirts of the city; it's known as the Bone Pit. Yeah, I know, not a name to make its workers feel good," he added when seeing the mage's face. "Apparently there's been some sort of incident there. Saw some of the miners run in here, practically wetting their trousers. No one could get a word out of them, not even me." He scowled at that last comment.

"Is it a job worth looking into? Will the coin be good?"

"Hubert usually pays well for a job done right. I say go for it. Hey, where is Hawke? Usually she's the one asking me about these things."

"My dear sister had too much to drink last night. She's not feeling too well today."

"I thought you mages could make something like that go away," the dwarf teased.

"I imagine the mage that invents a spell to cure hangovers will make a great deal of coin on that!"

"He certainly would! Maybe you should try looking into that!"

"Not sure that's my thing, Varric."

He suddenly fixed her with a curious expression, like he was holding something back that was both terribly intriguing, but simultaneously hilarious. "So... Hawke and Rivaini?"

"What about them?"

"I have to say, I'm pretty sure after that display last night, Anders was ready to, well, you know..."

"Did you see the look on Isabela's face when Marian ran out? She looked like she'd been slapped!" Bethany giggled.

"You don't seem too upset about any of that."

"I don't know how I feel about it. I mean... They were both pretty sloshed. Well, most of us were. But none of what happened last night compared in anyway to the trouble Carver would get in! Oh, he got kicked out of the inn _so_ many times for 'inappropriate conduct.'"

"Now this sounds like a good little set of stories! Do tell, Sunshine."

"Another time, perhaps, Varric. Right now, I have to go and see if Aveline wants to join us for our new venture into the mines of Kirkwall!" She said the last three words with mock mysticism, smirking at the dwarf. "Would you want to join me?"

"I don't know, Sunshine. Aveline isn't the most pleasant morning person..."

"Well, maybe you could see if Fenris wants to come?"

"Disrupt the elf's endless brooding? I am your charmingly handsome dwarf at your service!" He fastened Bianca to his back, before getting ready to leave with the mage.

"Do you really need your crossbow for this?"

"Bianca is very sensitive, and she gets separation anxiety. Besides, I wouldn't want her to think I was gallivanting with other women."

They left the Hanged Man together, making their way up to Hightown. Bethany was happily trading stories about family and how her father taught her magic in secret. She knew the glint in her companion's eye meant that these would turn into wild tales, full of action, hilarity and pinch of tragedy. She didn't mind, though. Bethany always loved the way Varric would embellish tales, turning them from little memories into tavern legends.

They parted ways at the stairs that led up to the Keep. The dwarf sauntered off to the Hightown mansions, preparing an onslaught of smart-mouthed teases for the cloistered elf.

Bethany and Mangy ascended the long flights of stairs to get to the main hall. She strode to the eastern side of the building where the Barracks were housed. She and her sister visited so often that no one took a second glance when the mage entered, scanning the small space for Aveline's unmistakable hair.

"Bethany." The woman she was seeking came out of one of the sleeping quarters. "Is something wrong?" Mangy happily greeted the guardswoman, pawing at her chest plate. "Where's Hawke?"

"She's fine, Aveline. She's just nursing a headache from last night's carousing." A frown of disapproval covered the Fereldan's face. "Spare my sister the lecture, please. I'm pretty sure she's feeling pretty terrible right now. I tried talking to her about it, and it was like trying to have a conversation with a wall. She'll talk about it when she's ready."

"I don't know what Hawke sees in that slattern. It's out of my hands. What did you want to talk about?"

"Have you heard about the merchant and his mine troubles?"

"A few rumors, but I haven't really been out and about today. Is Hawke planning on looking into this one?"

"Well, Varric says it's something that would probably end up paying well, and you know we need all the coin we can get. Anyway, Marian thinks some extra muscle couldn't hurt. Are you interested?"

"I suppose we would be helping a legitimate merchant, and not pirates or apostate runaways. Let me get my things, I'll be right there."

They meandered on down to Lowtown, Aveline discussing the things she has had to do to prepare for her captaincy. She has had to spend an exhaustive amount of time with Seneschal Bran, which frustrated her to no end. Aveline was a woman of action, and sitting around discussing administration instead of training or going on patrols was not her idea of fun.

They entered the shack, and saw Hawke sitting by the fire, sipping at a cup of tea, chatting with Leandra. Mangy let out several booming barks, happy to see his master out of bed. Hawke rubbed her head gingerly, telling the hound to stay quiet.

"Feeling better, Sister?"

"Much, I just have a lingering headache. I think the spell you used on my head has worn off." She smiled weakly at the duo. "Morning, Aveline. Having a good morning?"

"The Seneschal hasn't hounded me at all today, so it's been better than most."

Bethany was busy soothing her sister's head when she turned to the guardswoman. "Did Merrill make it back to the alienage okay? I saw you escorted her out of the Hanged Man last night."

"Thank the Maker that elves weigh so little. I ended up carrying her back to her home. I'm sure she's feeling worse than you are, Hawke." Aveline smiled at the aching woman.

"Why didn't any of us stop her from drinking so much last night?" Hawke looked to her two companions.

"I don't think any of us noticed just how much she had until she really started showing how drunk she was."

"Next time, let's make sure she doesn't get that much alcohol. What did Varric say, Beth?"

"He thinks it's a legitimate job. He's going to see if Fenris is available, and we're all going to meet at the Hanged Man."

"I guess I should get ready. We have coin to make!" She reentered the main room in a few minutes, fully dressed in her leather armor, daggers strapped to her back. "Beth," Hawke walked up to her sister, a serious look in her eyes. "I want you to sit this one out. Go to Merrill's, make sure she's okay." The mage was about to protest, when she saw the hollow, distant look in those blue eyes locked onto her own.

"Nightmares again?" she whispered. Her sibling nodded discreetly. "Don't worry, Sister, Merrill will be fine with me. Good luck, and don't die."

"Thank you," she said, stroking her sister's face. "Come on, Ave, let's go and meet Varric."


	6. Victory too Dangerous

The two Fereldan's entered the tavern, looking for the smart dwarf. They saw Fenris sitting in a corner, running a polishing cloth over his sword, glaring at anyone who came too close.

"Fenris! Where is Varric?"

"Hawke," he nodded in greeting. "The dwarf had to leave. Apparently his snake of a brother needed his services and departed immediately."

"Brilliant. I don't want to do this short-handed..."

"Bethany seemed more than eager-" Aveline started.

"No! Just... No. I know she's more than capable, but... I have my reasons." The haunted look still clung to the edges of the rogue's face.

At that moment, a copper-skinned woman sauntered over to their corner. "I couldn't help but hear that you need help with a job?" She smirked knowingly, placing her hands on her hips and thrusting her chest out slightly. Hawke avoided looking at the Rivaini's face, feeling heat creeping up the back of her neck.

"Are you here to embarrass Hawke further?"

Isabela donned a look of mocked shock. "Embarrass? Me? No. You've got it all wrong, Big Girl. I'm here to try and find a way to earn a night with those nimble hands. I've seen what she can do in combat, and now I simply _have_ to know what she can do between the sheets." She looked her target up and down. Fenris coughed awkwardly, still uncomfortable with the pirate's blatant advances that she tossed everywhere.

"If you're so desperate to butt into my business, Isabela, then come along. Merrill and Beth are out, and I don't want to hear Anders pissing and moaning about how rude we were to him last night."

"Oh, this is going to be _fun_."

"Come on, we've got to get to Hightown, and we're wasting time. Besides, the smell in here is doing nothing for my stomach." She turned and left without another word, leaving her companions to follow.

They met the merchant at his stall. He was everything you'd expect of an Orlesian businessman: superior, condescending, shrewd and always looking for the most coin. Yet, Hawke could tell that he was the sort of man to make good on his deals, just as Varric had said.

Apparently there had been some incident that caused his men to flee his mine. He wanted someone to investigate and take care of the issue. He promised good coin, and that was enough for Hawke. She promised Hubert she would do all she could as long as he paid.

The journey to the Bone Pit was not a short one. They made their way through the crowded city and along the mine paths. Hubert's mine was near the top of a mountain, and the heat that day was brutal. When they reached the summit, they stopped to take a breather. Aveline passed around a water skin she always had with her; Isabela complained that there wasn't any alcohol in it.

They made it to the main landing, only to discover a group of looters taking advantage of the abandoned goods. The four of them charged in, destroying the group of ne'er-do-wells. After looting the bodies, they explored the area, looking for any clues as to what might have happened.

Fenris was near the entrance to one of the mining tunnels when he called them over. "It smells like death in there. I'm sure this is where the trouble is happening."

"Oh, so we're going to charge into the dark hole that 'smells like death!' You're not seriously going to do that, are you, Hawke?" Isabela looked to her.

"Yep. We promised Hubert. Let's go, and everyone be on your guard."

"If I die in there, I'm going to come back and haunt you!"

They all took a sigh of relief as they stepped into the cool, damp cavern, Aveline especially, because she was fully decked out in her plate armor. They didn't get too far in before winged, lizard-like creatures roughly the size of a mabari approached them, hissing nastily. The smell of sulfur clung to the air.

"Dragons?" Aveline breathed, drawing her sword.

"Balls," Isabela grumbled.

The supposed-to-be-extinct myths advanced when another dragon, twice the size of its companions, came charging in. Fenris let out a startling bellow, his skin illuminating with lyrium-fueled power, and ran full-tilt to the large dragon. Aveline and Hawke made themselves busy with the dragonlings, blocking and dodging the snapping jaws of the little things. They were quick, and their long, thin necks made them incredibly nimble.

Isabela stayed mostly behind the big dragon, teasing and confusing it so that it wouldn't focus all of its energy, and fire, on the elf in front of it. Fenris managed to land a hefty blow to its jaw, but it earned him a hard swipe from the enraged dragon. He fell to the side, his sword landing near him.

Hawke saw that the creature was about to strike at her felled warrior, and deftly drew her boot knife, throwing it into the dragon's eye. Blinded and howling in pain, it began thrashing about, causing Isabela to back off, worried she was going to get hit by its tail. She left to help the two women finish off the little dragons while Fenris recovered.

They were finally free to converge entirely on their angry foe. Aveline and Fenris both decided to deflect the major blows and herd the beast into the open. There, Hawke and Isabela flanked it, both sending one of their daggers into its legs, crippling it. The Fereldan rogue screamed leapt onto its scaly back, wrapping her arm around its slippery neck, sinking her remaining dagger through the dragon's throat, killing it at last.

"Maker's balls, Hawke! Those were fucking dragons!" The pirate pulled her weapon from the stilled body, looking more than a little shaken.

Aveline and Hawke laughed, both of them having witnessed the Witch of the Wilds turn into a high dragon right before their eyes. Seeing the little ones before them was surprising to be sure, but not enough to shock them. Fenris maintained his usual impassive expression.

"Are you hurt? That dragon really tossed you."

"I'll be fine. I might have a cracked rib, but nothing that won't heal on its own."

"I bet Anders could heal that for you," Isabela offered, knowing how much he despised the mage.

"Bela, don't. Let's move on, this can't be the last of them."

They delved further into the mine, encountering many corpses of the miners and more of the ancient beasts of varying sizes. These battles went much faster, now that they knew how to fight and kill them. Hawke was beginning to seriously consider demanding far more money than Hubert had promised, considering that she was dispatching dragons for him.

They were moving into the next section when one of the miners, scared, sweaty and about to piss his trousers ran up to them. "Praise Andraste you came along! Them dragons would've sniffed me out for certain!" He panted, wild-eyed.

"Slow down, tell me what happened here," Hawke said gently.

"I'll tell you what I can, but be a friend and keep your voice down!" The man glanced nervously over his shoulder. "There's another dragon close by!"

"Where did the dragons come from?"

"We was mining a new tunnel, when the wall collapsed, and dragons came through! It was a bloody slaughter! Scared out of my wits, I ran like my arse was on fire! It probably was... Only, I went the wrong way and ended up trapped here!"

"You should get out of here," Hawke said, worried that questioning him further would push him over the edge.

"You don't have to tell me twice," he said, relief creeping over his face. "You should leave too, but don't go that way!" He motioned in the direction they were originally headed. "There's this _huge_ dragon!" He broke into a run, leaving them behind.

"We're going toward the huge dragon, aren't we?" Isabela asked without a trace of humor in her voice.

"We have to. If we wait for reinforcements, this thing could do more damage, or worse, it could go to Kirkwall."

"Let it, then! The bloody city could use a makeover!"

"Oh, but Isabela, think of how you could use your reputation as a dragon-slayer to your advantage! Think of all the people you could dupe, the coin you could make, the _sex_ you could have!" Hawke was blatantly appealing to the pirate's underworld nature. As she knew it would, it worked. The woman consented but continued to grumble profanities under her breath.

They emerged from the tunnel onto a large ledge that looked down into the valley that the mine overlooked. The view would have been nice to look at, were it not for the massive dragon swooping down on them, belching fire into the air. The miner had not been exaggerating; they were staring down a fully mature dragon, and it was incredibly angry.

They all drew their weapons, trying to convince themselves that they were ready for the battle that they were about to face. The dragon was vicious, swift and continued to try and turn Hawke and her fellows into burnt crisps. They were able to injure it, but those only seemed to make it more agitated and more deadly.

Isabela continued to go for its legs, hoping to cripple it. Aveline was jumping in front of companions, deflecting spurts of flame with her shield. She thanked the Maker that she had a fire resistance rune folded into the metal, meaning that it wouldn't heat up and melt under the dragon's deadliest weapon.

Hawke simply made herself a moving target, running around, shouting and basically trying to confuse it while she left the task of wounding the thing to Fenris and Isabela.

But Hawke was tired. Her head was throbbing, and she was sore from the earlier battles. She was slowing down and failed to notice it. The dragon, on the other hand, did not. It swooped down, snatching the rogue up in its jaws and shook its ugly head violently, thrashing her body to and fro before casting her motionless, bloody form to the side.

"HAWKE!" the three comrades screamed in unison. There was no time to see if she was even alive. The dragon had to die first. Aveline took out a hidden knife threw it into the beast. Fenris sent a combustion grenade flying into its face, exploding and mangling it. While it was disoriented, Isabela slid under the great belly and sliced it open, blood pouring out profusely.

The creature howled in pain, and Fenris took the opportunity leap upon the thing, shimmy up its lengthy neck, and reach into its skull, using the powers of his tattoos, and ended the dragon's life.

Aveline was the first to Hawke's side, turning her onto her back. Large puncture wounds were gushing blood, and her face was deathly pale. "I feel a pulse, but it's thready and weak!"

"Here," Isabela roughly uncorked a healing potion. "This will stop the bleeding." She poured the red liquid into Hawke's mouth, holding her head so it wouldn't run into her lungs. "Go ahead of me, warn Anders to be ready. Fenris, get Bethany and meet us at the clinic. I'll carry her myself." Aveline looked about to protest, but the pirate cut her off. "I'll run faster with her because I have very light armor! Now GO!"

The two warriors took off without a second glance. The potion was doing its job as Isabela watched the wounds clot before her eyes. She downed a stamina potion so she could run without getting winded. She unceremoniously slung the woman over her shoulder and took off as fast as she could with the Fereldan's dead weight.

"Don't you die on me! Don't you die! Not before I've had sex with you!" She ran as though her shapely ass was on fire, swearing loudly every time she tripped, or Hawke slipped off of her shoulder. Few people looked twice at the carcass-toting woman as she sped through Lowtown. It wasn't uncommon to see someone carrying a body in a part of the city where cholera was a regular visitor.

She took a hidden passage down to the Undercity, another place where bodies were even more frequent. She navigated her way to the clinic, whose lit lamp looked far more cheery than the situation ought to have allowed. Fenris was outside it, and he ran up to Isabela when he saw her approaching.

She passed her friend's body to him so she could catch her breath. Anders already had a cot ready, and Bethany stood beside him, ghost-white. Aveline looked away, unable to trust herself to watch what might happen next. The sight of Isabela when she walked in did nothing to ease Anders, Bethany or Aveline. Her white top and corset were horrifically spattered with a mixture of greenish dragon blood and Hawke's own life essence.

Anders set to work immediately and without question. Bethany could not sit by and do nothing. She stood behind the Warden, placing her hands on the back of his shoulders. They began to glow blue as she channeled her magic through him, so Anders wouldn't tire.

Fenris stood near the entrance, watching the mages closely. Aveline paced like an agitated wolf, while Isabela stood near, looking awkwardly torn between wanting to comfort the guardswoman or just throw up. She did neither.

Anders finally stepped away, the glow of his healing magic fading. He looked to Bethany, showing his gratitude through his eyes and passed her a lyrium potion. "Her wounds are closed, but she's lost so much blood and suffered so much trauma that I was forced to put her into a prolonged dream-state. Waking her up could put her into shock. She needs rest."

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, expelling all the air from their lungs that they didn't realize they were holding. Aveline tried to say her thanks to him for saving her best friend's life, but no words came from her throat. Anders put his hand on her shoulder, letting her know that she needn't say a word. Instead, she left to go put in for a temporary leave of absence with the Guard.

Fenris hovered, saying nothing, but the anxiety that tightened his features was obvious. He liked the rogue, and held an odd loyalty to her; however, expressing his emotions was not the elf's forte. To his endless gratitude, no one pressed him to do so, and just remained watchful, like a loyal hound.

Isabela replaced Aveline's pacing, wishing more than anything that she had a bottle of whiskey to down. Unfortunately, Anders had no drinkable alcohol because Justice wouldn't let him drink. So, she paced, twirling a knife fretfully between her fingers.

Bethany magically erected a sheet around her and her unconscious sister so she could get Hawke out of her mangled, bloodied armor in privacy. Once her sister was dressed in clean linens, she let the enchantment on the sheet go.

Isabela immediately lunged to Hawke's side, kneeling next to the cot, brushing the ebony locks from a face too pale. The pirate and mage wanted to exchange words, something to say thanks, something to comfort, but they could only look at the other, faces taut with worry.


	7. Hawke's Savior

Leandra and Bethany hovered near the cot. Hawke had been unconscious for three days under Anders' spell. Her color slowly became more normal over the days, but her appearance was far from radiating health and warmth. Her skin was still sallow and deep plum bruises were splashed grotesquely across her body.

Hawke was never without company. Her mother and sister were present as many hours of the day as they could muster, but Aveline would often come by to insist the pair return home to sleep. Merrill would recite Dalish history, and Isabela often snuck in late at night to whisper filthy stories into her friend's ear, only to be shooed out by a grumpy, tired Anders. Fenris sat silently by his friend, always unsure what to do. Varric had collected Hawke's armor and weapons; he paid to have them cleaned and restored.

The pirate queen was rather shocked one evening when she saw a face that clearly didn't belong in the Hanged Man. Leandra had stepped through the door, looking more than uncomfortable. She glanced around, wrinkling her nose at the robust odor that marked a well-attended tavern.

She saw Isabela, lounging at her usual place by the bar, and made a beeline straight for her. This further surprised the Rivaini, wondering what the Hawke matron could want from her.

"Can I get you an ale? Or perhaps something stronger?" She noted the exhausted look that clung to the woman's appearance.

"No, thank you, Isabela."

"What can I do for you, then?"

"Varric has been spinning this wild yarn about dragons, bandits, ogres and all other matter of unsavory heroism. Aveline still can't seem to talk about it, and that elf..." Isabela smirked a little. "You were there. You will tell me the truth. What happened to my dear girl?"

Isabela chuckled at the idea of someone coming to her to hear the truth about anything. Yet, she was oddly touched by the woman's request. "There's always a grain of truth to Varric's tales, I'll tell you that. Sit down, and let me get you something to drink; you're going to need it."

She recited the events that took place at the mine, just without the darkspawn, griffon hatchlings and Antivan assassins that had been sprinkled through the dwarf's version. When she got to the moment where the dragon took Hawke, Isabela had to stop. Tears were running down Leandra's face, and she dissolved against the pirate.

Isabela was incredibly uneasy; comforting weeping women was not her thing, unless it ended in sex. This definitely wasn't the case. The older woman peered up at the dusky beauty in front of her.

Wiping tears away, she said, "You... You saved her! Andraste guide you!"

"I... Well- W-what? I didn't save Hawke. Anders saved her."

"He tells me otherwise, dear. If you hadn't given her the potion, and carried her to his clinic, my Marian would have been..."

"I did what anyone would have done. Don't go thinking I'm some kind of saint... I'm definitely not!"

Leandra smiled at the obviously uncomfortable woman. "You don't need to be a saint to be a savior in the eyes of an old woman and a mother. You made it so my daughter is still breathing. I owe you my gratitude, Isabela."

The pirate shifted in her stool. This was going too far. "You're welcome, but please, don't name any kids or pets after me."

"Fair enough. Let me at least buy you this drink, dear. It's the least I can do."

"I can't say no to free alcohol!"

They drank and chatted for a few hours following, both reminiscing about Fereldan and things they missed or hated about it. Leandra was awfully interested in the fact that the pirate had both met the Hero of Fereldan and _taught her_ how to duel. She was less interested in the threesome she ended up having with her and an Orlesian bard.

Eventually Isabela escorted the slightly tipsy woman home so she could get some much-needed rest. The pirate immediately departed for the Undercity, standing outside the quiet clinic. Anders was asleep, and no one was lingering near any other beds, not even Hawke's.

There was a cloth lying across the rogue's forehead, but it was cold and only slightly damp from having been placed a while ago. She removed it, and dipped it into a kettle of water the mage always kept near the fire.

Isabela gently moved the messy locks of hair that sprung back to cover Hawke's face. As though handling a newborn, she put the freshly dampened towel over her patient's face.

"Why were you such an idiot?" Isabela murmured, settling down on the small stool next to the cot. "Why do you always play the hero? We could have let that stupid dragon burn down the bloody Free Marches, and let Lady Manhands and her blasted guards kill it!" She stared down the motionless woman in the dim candlelight.

A naughty grin spread across face. "You have no idea the things I could do to you right now. No bets, no alcohol and no protests. It's a damned shame that your sister is the only one that gets to sponge bathe you. I bet I could do _such_ a better job."

The pirate began to whisper all the little things that she would do to Hawke if she could put her practiced hands to good use. She was terribly tempted to do everything she muttered into the woman's ear, but Isabela was a tease when it counted. She was just getting to the bits she imagined Hawke would think were the best parts, when the woman's face tilted toward the Rivaini's.

"After all that," she rasped. "I hope you live up to your word." She smiled weakly.

"Maker's great hairy balls, Hawke! You scared the shit out of me," she yelled, startled by the movement of the woman who was supposed to be in a magical coma.

Hawke limped up to the Hanged Man, her arm in a sling and greenish bruises still visible from under the collar of her tunic. When she entered, a raucous cheer greeted her, and she smiled looking at all the people there to celebrate her recovery.

Varric paid for all the food and drink, and no one, especially Aveline, asked where that amount of coin came from. Even Gamlen was there, though everyone suspected he only came for the booze.

Bethany ran up to her sister, helping her as much as the proud sibling allowed. She was seated at one of the only real chairs in the tavern, and not one of the barrels or benches most of everyone else sat their drunken asses on. Merrill had kindly decorated it with little flowers and beaded strings. She ran up to Hawke and put one of the beaded strands around her neck.

"It's for you! Unless, it's not wrong to give gifts to the ailing? We always did that for members of the clan."

"Thank you, Merrill. It's lovely," Hawke said, smiling warmly at the elf.

"Hawke! It's good to see you out and about again. My stories are a little dull without my favorite muse!"

"Oh! Were there _really_ baby griffons?" Merrill's whole face lit up with delight.

"I'm going to end up letting you down, horribly, aren't I?" Everyone chuckled at Hawke's quip.

Hawke sat down and gestured for Anders to come over. "Thank you. You saved my life. I will repay you."

"Hawke, I don't do this for money or favors. You owe me nothing. Saving a life is gratifying enough. I'm still going to need to do some more healing..."

"Is that something Bethany could take care of? She's a good healer."

"I could certainly show her. Send word when you're ready, and I'll come to you. Can't imagine you want to keep going to Darktown."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I guess that I should get lots of rest and water too? C'mon, Anders, it's a celebration!" He smiled and went back to his seat.

"Hawke. It's good to have you back." Aveline looked stony.

"And leave you to ruin all the fun around the city? Not a chance!"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," the guardswoman chuckled. "I just want you to know that... I let Wesley down, and then you..."

"Ave, stop. I blame you for _nothing_. But! If you _really_ want to make it up to me, you can bring me a mug and pass that pitcher of ale my way! If you're going to be all guilty and brooding, you and Fenris can go sulk in Hightown." The woman scowled down at her friend, and then burst out laughing, happy to have her sassy companion back.

"Oh just kiss already!" Came the honey-rich voice of the Rivaini sauntering over to them.

"Shut up, Whore."

"That's original, Big Girl."

"Can't you two ever get along!"

"Only when you're not looking, Hawke. And you're always looking," Isabela smirked.

"I hear that I have you to thank for my life, Bela." She tried to meet the gaze of her rescuer, but the dusky woman kept her eyes averted.

"Don't read too much into it. Although..." A sly look passed over her face. "Does this mean that I have earned a night with you?"

"Perhaps, but definitely not tonight."

"I thought it was a celebration?"

"Blessed Andraste, Bela! I can barely walk! What makes you think I could handle a tumble right now?"

"Good point, Hawke. Dead fish are no fun in bed. If I'm to have you, I want you at your best."

"Confident, aren't we?"

"Always, Hawke. Always."

The alcohol flowed freely from tap to mouth that night. No one could have possibly been in a sour mood that night, not with Hawke back among the party. Merrill was flitting about, tucking flowers into Aveline's hair and talking about Dalish legends with Varric.

Everyone was thoroughly surprised when they saw Anders pour a drink for Fenris, who accepted it with grace, and the tiniest of smirks. Gamlen mostly sat by himself, drinking and eating hoggishly. Aveline got too drunk, trying to prove to Isabela that she could go shot for shot with her. The powerful warrior was doing remarkably well, but the pirate was a professional drunk. The poor woman started ranting about how much training the new recruits would need before they came anywhere near her standards. She was complaining about Isabela's "lifestyle," and then she promptly threw up into her tankard.

Thankfully, there was another off-duty guard in the Hanged Man that offered to escort the guard captain back to the barracks. He swore that he would not breathe a word of it to any one else.

Fenris and Varric got into an arm wrestling match, while Bethany, and Leandra practically dragged a very sloshed Gamlen out of the tavern. Hawke promised the two women that she would be able to get home, and if she didn't feel up to it, Varric would let her stay in his suite.

While everyone was distracted with the battle going on between elf and dwarf, Hawke slipped away as well as she could, heading to the upper floor if the inn. She stumped past Varric's room and sidled on into Isabela's.

She had never been in there before, and she paused to look around. It was a small space, unlike the dwarf's suite. There were empty liquor bottles on the floor along the walls and next to the unmade bed. Little trinkets were spread across a small writing table; Hawke assumed that they were items the pirate had stolen from unaware victims.

The scent of Corff's spiced rum and eucalyptus clung pleasantly to the air around her. Bodices, corsets and fancy smallclothes were strewn on and around a tiny, wooden wardrobe. It was exactly what Hawke thought the room would be.

She walked over to the writing desk, and picked up a sheaf parchment, thumbing through the pages of a very graphic friend-fiction involving Aveline and several burly, sweaty male recruits. She giggled, reading some of the scribbled lines, but clutched her side in pain.

The rogue limped over to the bed, sort of spreading out the blankets. She plopped down onto it, inhaling sharply at the angry jolt of soreness that spread along her back. Anders was a gifted healer, but there was only so far that magic could go; the rest would be up to her body.

She relaxed, feeling sleepy from the alcohol and just plain tired from everything that had happened to her. Sleep gripped her like the jaws of a mabari, and it wasn't long before Hawke found herself plagued my memories and guilt.

_Carver's mangled body flew through the air, droplets of blood trailing behind him. A long crimson streak stained the dirt as his lifeless form skidded to a halt. Leandra flew to her son's side, caring nothing for the ogre that could come after her next. _

_Hawke felt a scream rip from her throat, tasting the pure magic that was crackling off of her sister. Little lightning bolts were stabbing the air around the mage, her eyes wide with horror and her mouth agape with a silent cry of rage. _

_Aveline was the first to act, charging around the blighted thing, yelling at the beast to distract it. Bethany sent a searing hot fireball into its leathery back. The explosion stopped the ogre mid-swing at the redheaded woman. _

_Hawke finally came to, and, with a roar unlike any she had ever uttered, she sprang onto his still-burning back, not caring about the blazing heat against her skin. She sunk her daggers in on either side of its spine. _

"Hawke! For the Maker's sake, woman! Calm down!" Someone was yelling at her, and she didn't like it. Her fist collided with a hard jaw. Hands that were pinning her shoulders down lifted their weight from her as she heard a throaty grunt from above.

Hawke's eyes sprang open. It took her a second to adjust to the dim light, but she saw Isabela straddling her. The Rivaini was cupping her own jaw, wincing slightly in pain.

"Bela? What the hell are you doing?" She tried to sit up, but fell back against the pillow as her achy body protested.

"What am _I_ doing? What was that for?" She pointed at the swelling on her face.

"Oh, Andraste... I hit you?"

"Well I didn't hit myself, genius."

"And why, Isabela, are you straddling me?"

"Well, everyone was looking for you, because you kind of vanished from your own bloody party! I came up to my room, and you were thrashing around, yelling and about ready to break my bed. I was holding you down, and you punched me!"

"Sorry about that..."

"Remind me never to wake you up again. You also owe me for that hit! You better be careful, Hawke. Your favors are starting to stack up!"

"Great. Thank you, though, for waking me."

Isabela slid off of her guest, and sat on the edge of her bed by Hawke's knees. "What were you dreaming about?" she casually asked while starting to undo the buckles on her boots.

"My brother... The day he died. I have nightmares about it too often. It's been over a year, and that day still haunts me like a Shade."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the pirate responded, not looking up from her boots. "Need a drink?"

Hawke chuckled, "No, thanks. I think I've had enough for one night. There is something I did want to talk to you about."

"But talking is so _boring_. We could be doing much better things." She fixed her honey eyes on the woman in her bed. Hawke was sorely tempted to take her up on the offer, especially now that she had a lovely view of long, toned copper-skinned legs.

The rogue finally sat up, wincing from the movement. Isabela leaned on the arm she suddenly placed by the Fereldan's hip, offering up a tantalizing sight of her bosom, daring Hawke to take the bait.

"Maker, you don't make this easy, but I do have to talk to you." The other woman rolled her eyes, but stayed awfully close. "You saved my life from that dragon. You could have left Aveline or Fenris to carry me, but you didn't."

"Not you too! Didn't I tell you earlier not to fuss about that? I know you're all honor-bound and such, but why can't you-"

"Bela, let me finish. This isn't something I can toss aside. For thanks, I have a gift for you." One of the Rivaini's brows arched in interest. "Here. It's not weighted right for my style. I considered pawning it, but I think you'll put it to good use."

Hawke pulled the dagger she had taken from Hayder's body the night they killed him. She had a feeling her comrade would appreciate the present. Isabela looked at her with surprise.

"This was Hayder's! The bastard was always so clumsy with a dagger. He didn't deserve this beauty. Made from Orlesian Aurum. You know how they like their shiny things. It's a gorgeous weapon that needs a proper history." She was smiling with joy, feeling the weight of it in her hand. "Do you know what he called it?"

"Can't say that I do. We didn't exactly have tea and talk about our prized possessions, now did we?"

"That we didn't. Hayder called this one the Bodice Ripper. Ugly bastard probably never got to use it for that." She flashed a look at Hawke.

"Well, I'm glad that no willing woman gave him the chance!"

Hawke was smirking when a blazing hot kiss landed on her lips. Isabela had pounced, pushing her prey back onto the bed with surprising gentleness. The pirate's mouth was fiery and open, inviting the Fereldan to come play.

She returned the embrace with equal fervor, exploring her partner's enchanting mouth. Isabela's tongue lightly brushed against Hawke's, sending a tiny shiver through both of them. That small contact wasn't enough for the rogue, and she took command of the kiss, showing the beauty above her that she wasn't to be toyed with.

Mercifully, Isabela kept her hands planted firmly above her companion's shoulders, knowing that Hawke was still too sore. However, she was positively itching to find out just what caresses on which areas of her body would drive the woman wild.

But the Rivaini's own body was perfectly unharmed, and had been left untouched for far too long. Hawke reached up and slowly took one of Isabela's breasts in her hand. She delighted in the supple flesh that was regrettably housed underneath that cotton tunic. A deep throaty moan slipping into her mouth answered the action.

The sable woman broke the ardent embrace to trail kisses and tormenting little bites down Hawke's throat and shoulder, while the other woman's hands continued their tantalizing movements against her chest. She moved back up to the Fereldan's bare lips, leading with her fretful tongue.

She moved to press herself against her companion when Hawke cried out in pain. "Shit! I forgot... I'm sorry," she said, springing off of the bed.

"Don't worry about it." Hawke's face was scrunched with the lingering ache that settled through her. "You know what, I should go."

"You're joking!"

"Nope. Here." She tossed the cross woman a sovereign while slowly getting out of the bed herself. "I just can't, right now. Get yourself someone who wasn't mauled by a dragon at the Rose. I'm sorry, Bela. Another night." She hobbled out of the room without another word.


	8. To Protect Her Family

Hawke lay on Bethany's bed while her sister's hands hovered above her, glowing with blue healing magic. Anders had taught her the spell that he intended to use on his patient, eliminating multiple trips to Darktown.

"That feels way better," Hawke sighed, feeling some of the residual swelling lessen under the curative touch of her sibling.

"You're looking so much better too, you know. Most of your bruises are gone, and you're almost back to full mobility. You are, aren't you? You're not just putting on a face for me?"

Hawke donned a look of mock insult. "Me? Pretend to be healthy? Never!"

"You could be throwing up from food poisoning in front of everyone and still try to make us all think you're just swell," the mage chuckled, pulling her hands away. "Carver always tried to pull it off the way you did!"

"And he would only make himself sicker," the rogue finished with a grin. Do you remember the time he convinced Mother that he was well enough to go to combat training, and he passed out! And Father was furious!"

"I remember that he made Carver stay in bed for the rest of the time he was ill, and wouldn't use any healing magic just as punishment!"

"Lucky for him, he rode that fever out really fast. If he stayed in bed much longer, I think he'd have gone completely mad."

"I'm the reason he recovered so quickly," the mage replied, a big grin splashed across her young face.

"Beth! _You_ healed him?"

"I felt so bad for him. We swore we wouldn't tell anyone, and I also made him do my washing for a week as thanks!"

"No wonder you were so smug! And Father? He didn't suspect a thing?"

"His dear, sweet, baby Bethany go against her beloved father? Goodness no!"

"I miss those days in Lothering. Things were easier then..."

"I'd like to tell you that maybe we can go back some day, but I know that will never be. Don't worry, Sister. Once we go on this Deep Roads expedition, everything will change. Just you wait and see."

"Speaking of the expedition, did anyone go to Hubert since the... Incident?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, that means I've coin to collect. I'm going to go and get everyone who was with me just in case Hubert doesn't believe me." The two of them exited the little bedroom, fully dressed for a day of adventure.

"Am I coming with you?" Bethany looked expectantly at her sister.

"I'm afraid you're not going out with Marian today," Leandra said, looking at her children. "You promised that you would go into Lowtown with me today to pick up new fabric, knitting needles that aren't crooked and other things that we need."

"Oh!" she replied, clapping her hands to her mouth. "I forgot! I'm so sorry, Mother! I guess I will see you later today, Sister. Good luck with Hubert."

Hawke gave them both a hug and swift kiss goodbye before heading out to the Hanged Man. She walked in and saw Isabela at a table with several other men; they were all playing diamond back, and the pirate clearly had the most winnings. The rogue knew precisely why as well.

She walked up to their table just as the Rivaini was pulling all the coins in the pot toward her. Hawke noticed her slipping a card into the lip of one of her boots. She snuck right up behind the cheating woman, a small smile danced on her lips.

"Swindling helpless men out of their coin again, Bela?" Hawke purred into the duelist's ear.

Isabela stirred slightly, glancing over her shoulder. "How else is a woman to make a living around here?"

"Ask Aveline," the rogue teased. "She seems to have it down."

"Please, that woman is _not_ living. We're getting her a night at the Rose for her birthday. Speaking of which," she picked up a sovereign from her little pile of winnings. "Here's what I owe you."

"Owe me for what?" Hawke took to the coin regardless.

"For the other night. You ran out on me after telling me to sleep with a prostitute. I did, by the way. Osric is good for angry sex, among other things..."

"Yeah, sorry about that. It just wasn't..."

"I get it, Hawke. But you're an infuriating tease, you know that?"

Hawke giggled. "Are you done with your game? I'm going to see Hubert, and I want you there."

"Why is it that the only times you 'want' me, are when we're out in public. Although... I'm always up for trying-" But she was cut short by letting out an exasperated little gasp and dragging the horny woman out of her chair.

"We need to get Fenris and Aveline too. I want everyone who was there to be with me."

"Do I get a drink from this?"

"Maker! There's no winning with you, is there?" The two women left the tavern to head for Hightown together.

They stopped by the barracks first, and Aveline was more than willing to take any excuse to get away from all the political drivel she was being put through in preparation for her captaincy.

The trio entered the mansion, Isabela looking around distastefully at the shabby state of the estate. They found the elf sitting in the main study, poring over a book that Hawke had given him.

She was teaching him how to read, and had gotten him a book of children's nursery rhymes for him to start out with. His brow was knit together in concentration while his large, hazel eyes stared intently at individual words. Hawke smiled at the hardened warrior reading through a picture book.

"How is it coming?"

Fenris was in no way startled by their sudden appearance. "It's getting a little bit easier, but I'll be glad for a break. What can I do for you, Hawke?"

"Maybe you should look into getting a woman's touch for this place? It's a bit of a turn-off," Isabela offered.

"And I suppose that you would like to pick up a broom? You are a woman, after all," the elf responded coolly.

"Only if it's to help dust you off," she winked. "I could polish your armor until it shines like a lonely housewife after a good orgasm!"

"I think I'll pass." The Rivaini mocked disappointment.

"Okay then. If that's all settled, I would like you to come with me to see Hubert. He still owes me."

"Very well. Let's be off."

The walk from Fenris' mansion was brief, and they found themselves at Hubert's stall in no time. He looked pleased to see them, but knew something was up. His eyes did not miss the way Hawke's armor hung more loosely upon her body, or the sunken look in her face.

"I solved your problem," she stated matter-of-factly.

"So, what happened? One of the miners said you rescued him from dragons! I cuffed him for lying!"

"Well, he wasn't." The images of the beasts flashed through her mind. "Go there and see the corpses for yourself." There was no trace of humor in the rogue's voice.

"But... I thought they were extinct? I believe you!" He read the woman's expression, knowing that there was no lie to her words. "You made them extinct again? If it is safe, the miners can return to work."

"I bet their first task will be cleaning up the entrails the last shift left behind." She hoped her joke wasn't too morbid, but the look on Hubert's face told her that she failed.

"A dragon-killer _and_ a mind-reader. Wonderful. Let us discuss your payment." Finally, they got to the reason Hawke was there. "You have been a great help. Since you have done so much more than I was expecting, how about we work together?"

The woman's brow rose in astonishment. She was really just hoping for a sack of gold, not a business proposal. However, she remembered that Varric said he played fair, and paid well. Multiple sacks of gold would be much better than just one.

"I offer you a fifty-fifty share in the mine. You will make us both rich if you can keep your countrymen safe."

"Seems like the miners could use protection. And an advocate." Hubert was one of the few in Kirkwall that hired Fereldans. It wasn't so long ago that she was in the same position they were. Working in a mine was dangerous, but coin was coin. She wanted to keep her kinsmen safe, and employed.

"Now, to our first order of business," he began, talking to her now as an equal, and not just a hireling. "We replace the lost workers. I will hire new hands. Plenty of desperate Fereldans out there, but it will take some time. I need you to convince the surviving miners to return. They are holed up in Lowtown. Tell them the Bone Pit is safe again."

"I'll see what I can do." He dropped a small coin purse into her hand, and they parted with a nod.

"Wow. You just gained partial ownership of a mine, Hawke." Isabela looked disappointed despite what she said.

"What's wrong, Bela? Jealous?"

"Of the mine that almost killed you? Hell no. How much did he give you?"

Aveline scowled at the pirate. "Are the only things that you think about are money and sex?"

"No. I like to think about when I can get drunk again too! I'm not _that_ shallow."

"He paid me nine sovereigns, Bela. That's three for each of you."

"You're not keeping any?" Fenris looked curiously at his companion.

"I just got a mine. I think that's payment enough, don't you? However, three sovereigns for each of you is not. I owe my life to all three of you. You will all be getting a share of my pay from this partnership."

"Hawke," Aveline started. "I couldn't. Your life-"

"Shut up and take the money, Big Girl!"

"Don't ever tell me what to do, you whore!"

"Do men find your dominance a turn on? Or are they just too scared of you to protest?"

Aveline balls her fists tightly, nothing but pure venom in her eyes. Isabela stood her ground, casual as ever, but Hawke noticed her feet shift subtly, gaining a defensive position.

"For the love of the Maker!" Hawke cried. "Just take the money, Ave! And if you _really_ don't want it, Isabela and Fenris will take your share."

"I don't need it. I have a decent enough pay."

"Will you at least use what you made here to go to the Rose, Big Girl? I'm sure they won't mind your man-hands."

"Isabela, knock it off!"

"Whatever you say, Hawke. And if you're ever looking for a way to thank me properly, you know _exactly_ how to repay me," Isabela said, sauntering up to her fellow rogue. "You know where to find me." She moved past her, heading for Lowtown.

"We'll talk to the workers tomorrow," Hawke said to Fenris and Aveline. "I've got some business I need to take care of."

She set off purposefully to the Red Lantern District. Isabela had a nasty way of winding her up, and Hawke knew her mother and sister wouldn't be done for hours. She walked into the brothel; the powerful scent of incense, alcohol and roasted meats hit her. She knew exactly what she wanted, and was completely willing to pay for it.

Katriella was a lovely redheaded elven girl. Hawke had utilized her services on several occasions, and she never felt dissatisfied after. The prostitute was one of Madame Lusine's best, so Hawke paid gold for the girl.

"Shit, Hawke, what had you so bothered? Usually you're not this...ah...urgent."

"If you didn't like it, your moans told me otherwise."

"Maker, no! Your touch always delights my senses. You were just a little more aggressive than usual."

"Thank you, Kat. I'll see you around," she smiled to the woman.

"You own a _what?_"

"I a mine, Mother. And I don't own all of it, just half of it! This is a pretty lucrative offer! You know we need all the coin we can get. Not to mention, Hubert hires Fereldans. If I help him keep it up and running, it means that our fellow refugees are being paid. I even got him to double their wages!"

"It's done, and I've no further say in this matter."

"I know you're not happy about this, but-"

"Not happy? When did I say I wasn't happy? It's just... Sudden. I never dreamed of this happening."

Hawke laughed, "Neither did I!"

"I can't believe that you, Sister, are in a business relationship now. Aveline must be so proud that you're doing something legitimate for once!"

"Ha. Ha, Beth. Hey, we haven't seen Merrill in a while; want to see if she'd like to go to the coast with us? We can bring Mangy! He likes her stories."

"Why not?" the mage shrugged.

"Oh, Mother, Varric said that he would probably be by this afternoon to drop off documents for the expedition."

"Thank you, dear. Have fun with Merrill, and give her my best."

It was an unusually nice day in Kirkwall, light and breezy. Mangy bounced about their heels, all slobbery and excited. They could feel Autumn crisping the air a little, and there was no shortage of work for farm hands because the harvest season was beginning.

Some of the leaves on massive tree in the center of the alienage were beginning to turn a violent shade of red. None of the elves seemed to want to be indoors, and they were all visiting with each other, selling their wares and generally enjoying the day. Except for the Dalish mage. She was definitely outside anywhere.

The two sisters made a beeline for the girl's shack, knocking lightly. They heard what sounded like a chair crashing to the ground, a mouse squeaking and something shattering. The squeak was unmistakably Merrill's. The poor girl was still so unaccustomed to visitors and social practices in general.

The door swung open to reveal the beaming face of the little elf. Her huge green eyes sparkled with joy and surprise. "Hawke, Bethany! You've come to visit! Please, come in!"

She dashed ahead of them, quickly picking up the fallen chair they heard earlier. A shattered goblet lay strewn across table and floor. A wave of her delicate hand repaired it in seconds, but Mangy nearly broke it in his attempt to greet her.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Stale bread? Oh, maybe I shouldn't have mentioned the stale part..."

"Actually, we were wondering if you wanted to go to the Wounded Coast? It's a lovely day," Bethany offered.

"Oh, thank the Creators! I would love to. My house is such a mess, and it would be wonderful to not have you in this filth."

"This is nothing, Merrill. You should have seen Gamlen's when we first moved in," Hawke laughed. "It was _such_ a pig-sty! Do you remember, Beth?"

"I think I'm still trying to get the smell out of my robes! And the look on Mother's face! I thought she was going to slap Uncle Gamlen!"

The three girls giggled before Merrill set about putting her books away and gathering her things for their trip to the coast. She was positively beaming with delight at being asked to accompany her friends on a walk. She was almost as isolated as Fenris, though for completely different reasons.

They exited the little home, taking in the fresh air once more; however, a strange sight met their eyes. A weeping elven woman was pleading with a Templar. Their conversation wasn't hard to overhear, and from the sound of it, the weeping woman's son was an apostate. The Templar seemed as though he was trying to help the woman and her boy, not mercilessly hunt and destroy. He offered an apology and left for the Gallows.

"Can we help her?" Bethany looked at her sister. "This could have been me."

"Beth, this could involve a lot more Templars. Are you sure you want to get into this?"

"I know the risks, Sister I'm smart enough not to go around shouting that I'm an apostate."

"That would be a terrible idea! I wonder why anyone would do that?" Merrill quipped. The two sisters turned to look at her. "Oh, that was sarcasm again, wasn't it? We should help that boy. He could be in a lot of danger from more than just mage hunters."

Hawke looked at the two faces staring back at her. Both looked determined, and she knew that she could not turn away from this plight. She knew just how much protecting fellow mages meant to her sister.

"It sounds like your son is in trouble," Hawke said gently to the elf. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You... You heard all of that, and still you would help? An apostate? Oh, thank you! I am Arianni. My boy, Feynriel, he's all I have, all my family! When I learned he had had magic, I could not bear to send him to the Circle." She spoke with the same strange accent that Merrill had. This woman was Dalish, but why was she not with her clan?

"But his connection to the Fade, it gives him nightmares... Dreams of demons speaking in his mind. I would rather lose him to the Circle than to himself." Her words hung heavy with sadness and defeat.

"What exactly do you need me to do?" Hawke knew that helping Arianni and her son was right thing to do.

"Just find him, please. Bring him somewhere safe. I do not know where Feynriel has gone, but there are two places you could start your search. Ser Thrask is in the Gallows. If you speak to him, he'll be able to tell you what ground he's already covered, and Feynriel's father, Vincento, recently returned from Antiva. He's a merchant in the Lowtown Bazaar. Feynriel might have sought him out."

"I will not leave you fearful for a moment longer than necessary."

"Magic can be a fearful gift," Bethany said sorrowfully. "Your son deserves the best aid in learning how to manage it."

"Thank you. It has been a lonely time hiding. It's almost a relief to confront it openly."

"Where should we start?" Hawke asked the two mages.

"I would think the father," Merrill started. "A boy wants to know the man he is born of."

"Let's go to him _before_ we go to the Templar," Bethany stated.

"You don't have to come, Beth. No one will blame you for keeping your distance from this one."

"No. I want to help. What if this was Mother!"

"I understand. Is there anyone else we should bring? Anders might know where apostates run to."

"No, don't bring him. It will get too personal for him. Besides, this is a precarious enough situation as is. What if Justice comes out?"

"I agree with your sister, Hawke."

"Varric, then? He always has his ear to the ground, and Bianca's never afraid to get her hands dirty. He also knows the merchants better than anyone; he could be an asset when dealing with Vincento."

It didn't take long to get to the tavern where the merchant prince housed himself. Isabela wasn't there when they walked in, not that it mattered to Hawke where the pirate might be occupying herself. Varric was in his suite, nursing an ale and reading an obscenely long scroll.

"Hawke! Just the sort of diversion a dwarf needs! Sunshine, Daisy." He nodded to the two women. "Doing well I hope? Not getting too lost any more?"

"Oh, not so much, and that ball of twine was a life saver, Varric. The kittens seem to like it too!"

"I'm sure they do, Daisy. What can I do for you ladies?"

"We're looking for a boy. Human-blooded elf called Feynriel. He's an apostate, and he ran away from his mother."

"I can see how that would be of interest to you." His sharp eyes darted to the two mages. "Where do I come in?"

"We're going to see if he sought out his father. He abandoned the boy when he was just a babe. He's an Antivan merchant here in Lowtown."

"Let me guess, you're looking for Vincento?"

"I suppose there aren't many vendors from Antiva here, are there?"

"Always so sharp, Hawke."

"What do you know about him?"

"Nothing particularly good. He's fairly smarmy, even for a Lowtown merchant. He'll swindle anyone he can, and he doesn't barter fairly. You'd think people would just go to another stall, but the man's just charming enough that they fork over their coin. He will be tricky to deal with. I'll come along."

"I knew you would. Searching for potentially dangerous apostates must make for a good story."

"Not to mention a dwarf can stare at cost reports and supply charts for only so long. Bianca was starting to get bored."

"Let's not keep her waiting."

Varric led them straight to Vincento's stall. It was clear that none of his goods were of any decent quality. He probably picked them up used, or from piles of refuse and makes his money selling them for far more than they are worth.

"Greetings, my lady," he said in an overly sweet voice further honeyed by the accent of his home country. "You look like a woman who would appreciate the finest rubies from Antiva gracing her lovely neck!" Hawke suppressed the urge to vomit. "I bring only the best northern merchandise to the Free Marches." Hawke suppressed a second urge to burst out laughing.

"Actually, I'm more interested in your son," she replied pleasantly.

"My lady, I am a bachelor! I have never met a woman of sufficient beauty and charm to tie Vincento down!" _And you never will,_ the rogue thought.

"Please, Serrah," Bethany began. "I know you must fear for Feynriel, but we mean him no harm."

"Hmph! Hard to tell in this city who means who no harm, eh?" His charming facade was starting to slip.

"Perhaps you can set his mind at ease," Hawke said confidently to her sister.

Bethany stepped closer to the man, her hands illuminating with bright blue magic for the briefest of moments. "You'll find no better friend to a young, scared mage." She stepped back beside her sibling.

Vincento swore in his native tongue. "You're a mage! I suppose you'd be kind, then, to a boy who resists being taken in by Templars?"

"Of course," Bethany replied gently.

"The boy is in over his head, so I sent him to the only man I know who doesn't despise mages: a former Templar named Samson."

"Why would a templar help him?"

"His conscience plagues him, having served the Templars too long. He now helps mages on the run. He stays out of sight during the day. At night, he stays near Darktown. That's the best place to find him."

Hawke thanked him for his cooperation, and they left his stall. "Beth, go home now."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I don't want you involved in this. That man, Samson, he could be a trap. I don't want you within fifty feet of him."

The mage pulled her sister away from their two friends. "What about Merrill? I don't see you telling _her_ to go away," she said hotly.

"That girl is not my sister! I have no right to tell her not to come, but you-"

"Stop! Stop trying to protect me, Marian!"

"I CANNOT LOSE YOU!" Hawke exploded, tears spilling out of her eyes. "Not... Not after carver... I can't, Bethany. I'm not strong enough. Mother is not strong enough." People were now staring at the weeping woman gripping her sister by her delicate shoulders.

Hawke felt tender, warm hands cupping her face. Their gentle pressure brought her eyes up to meet the saddened ones of her little sibling. Thumbs lightly wiped away the hot tears that had splashed down her cheeks. Not a moment later did she embrace Bethany as tightly as she could without choking the poor girl.


End file.
